


Come With Me Now

by Chiore



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag, Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag Spoilers, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, KiddWay - Freeform, POV Edward Kenway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 76,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiore/pseuds/Chiore
Summary: Four months after the disastrous escape from Kingston's prison, Edward has fallen into dark, drunken pit of despair. When he receives a cryptic letter from Tulum, however, he is spurred out of his self-destructive depression and into hope. A Kiddway songfic.
Relationships: Edward Kenway & James Kidd | Mary Read, Edward Kenway/James Kidd | Mary Read
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	1. Torn To Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the final act of Black Flag rewritten to fix all the things that made me rage and cry. I slowly worked on this story between 2014 and 2020, posting on my FFn account with the same name as I went. It is now, at last, complete. I'm transitioning the main stage for my continued writing to AO3 and felt a crosspost for my longest and only complete story was appropriate. Chapters will be shared on this platform over the course of a few days/weeks but, if you're feeling impatient, you're welcome to read the story in its entirety over on FFn right now!
> 
> This story is also a songfic (each chapter has its own 'theme song') but I came under fire for including the lyrics I got my inspiration from way back when I started, so those won't be included here as I'm unfamiliar with AO3's rules on the matter. If you're interested in reading a version with those lyrics included, I've posted that on my writing Tumblr, GreetTheDawn, with the tag 'CWMN Full Chapters.'
> 
> Rated 'Teen and Up Audiences' for language, implied sexual content, and non-graphic depictions of violence.

**Song:** _Torn to Pieces_ \- Pop Evil

Four months after his escape from prison, Edward received a letter.

Anne hadn't made it out of Kingston. A guard had shot her down as she was fleeing with Ah Tabai. Kenway hadn't known her terribly well, but he'd certainly known her well enough to miss her. He found himself, more often than he should, drinking far too much at the taverns simply to drown out the deafening silence that had replaced her gentile singing at the Old Avery as she filled tankards and scorned drunken suitors for the fun of it. Few barmaids had ever lived who possessed the cunning wit and grace of Anne Bonny. Few women of any profession, for that matter. Edward knew he would regret for the rest of his life – however long or short that may be – that he never had the chance to see that woman sail. The tales he heard from his cell of Anne Bonny and James Kidd claiming the seas as their own wherever they went… Those stories would always stay with him.

Mary, he had been able to get out. Much to Edward's dismay, however, she had been in sorry condition when they had arrived at the Assassin camp in Tulum, barely able to move and hardly conscious. Knowing she likely wouldn't survive more than a few days, and being fully aware that he was unwelcome in the company of the Brotherhood, he had said his final goodbyes the next morning and then left for Great Inagua. He'd have given anything to stay with her, but he knew his presence would do her no good. He hadn't wanted her to leave the world worrying about him.

The moment he had found her laying in her cell, all color and life drained for her face, he knew that he was to blame. If he hadn't been so driven by greed, he might have avoided the Templars and the Assassins would have been safe. He might have avoided Roberts and the Observatory and, subsequently, prison. He could have saved Mary and Anne, himself, the moment they were captured, or perhaps prevented their arrest altogether. At the very least, both of them would be alive. Their black fates were on his hands, were his burden to bear.

Mary's final words to Edward followed him wherever he went, and that was often to the tavern where the absence of Anne's company and Mary's final promise and request drove him to darker places than he might once have believed imaginable.

_Do your part, Kenway. I'll be with you. I will._

* * *

Edward awoke from a disturbing dream face-down on a Kingston beach to find Adéwalé looming over him, sitting on an empty crate in the sand. "Captain Kenway. You look like a bowl of plum duff."

Edward rolled over onto his back, his hands covering his eyes. The sun seemed too bright. Could the sun do that? Increase in brightness so sharply? It felt like the light was melting his brain. He pulled himself into what might be called a sitting position if you squinted at him hard enough. He swore and grumbled, "I've got a head for ten…" clutching at his skull.

"Why do you do this to yourself, mate?"

With a strangled laugh, he replied, "Because, my old friend, this is the lot I've earned for myself. I've ruined myself to my wife, turned my crew against me, brought death to every man or woman I ever loved through my own selfish ignorance, and now I have nothing. Nothing and no one." Edward did his best to pry his eyes open and look at his quartermaster. "And when a man has nothing left of value, no one left to stand by his side… that man drinks." His clumsy fingers found a mostly-empty bottle by his side and he thrust it forward as though he were making a toast. Before he could bring the rum to his lips, however, Adéwalé snatched the bottle away, and Edward shot him a muddled glare. "You put me on a spot, Adé. After you leaving me with Roberts, I should have hard feelings about seeing you here." More than that, though, he could have saved Mary and Anne if he hadn't been deserted and then thrown in prison alongside them. In a way, their deaths were on the hands of the _Jackdaw_ 's crew just as much as his own. However, even in the darkest pit of his mind, he could not blame Adé. He was a good man doing more right by his crew than Edward ever had. The young captain laughed and let his head hang as he attempted to control the rocking of the earth beneath him. "But mostly, I'm bloody glad."

He heard his friend chuckle. "Me too, breddah…" Adéwalé sighed and was quiet a moment before speaking again. "A letter arrived a week or two back in Inagua for you. From Tulum." The quartermaster held out a folded piece of parchment. "I think you had better read it."

Edward ran a hand through his unkempt hair and was rewarded with a fistful of sand. A bath certainly sounded pleasant at that moment, but that required enough sobriety to avoid drowning, and those terms were simply unacceptable to him. "What could those damned Assassins possibly want from me anymore? Destruction and chaos follow me wherever I go, and they know that better than most."

Adéwalé simply placed the letter in Kenway's hand, said, "Read it," and walked away, heading back toward the _Jackdaw_ , which sat proudly in the glistening waters of the port.

Edward slumped back into the sand and stared up gratefully at a palm frond that was blocking the impossibly bright sun from view. A vision of Mary's face burned behind his eyes, first of her happy, standing at the prow of her schooner like she owned the whole world, then of her pale and laying in a cot in Tulum, her eyes dull as they searched his in pleading silence – the last memory had had of her. Both images filled him with guilt, pain, and loss. The visions were an inescapable and debilitating agony, though he did his best to medicate against their effects.

For the longest moment, he laid there and ignored the letter. He didn't want to know what the Assassins had to tell him, because he feared what that might be. He'd kept himself so blissfully ignorant and unthinking, uncomprehending of the information that threatened to overwhelm him if he let his head on straight for any length of time. Mary was dead.

He unfolded the parchment.

There were no words on the page. Simply a set of coordinates and a date, two weeks from the present time.

Edward wasn't precisely sure why – perhaps it was something to do with the 'sense' that Mary had once discussed with him, or maybe it was just the hangover subsiding – but his mind was clearer upon reading those numbers than it had been since Anne and Mary had died.

There wasn't a decision to go. He didn't have to make one. He simply knew that he was going.

It wasn't until several days later, when all preparations had been made and he stood at the helm of the _Jackdaw_ once more, that Edward realized why the letter had spurred him the way it did. He didn't know what he would find at the other end of the short journey, or why he had been summoned, and experience told him it would not be enjoyable. But it had given him a purpose in a time when his life was entirely devoid of any reason or drive to continue. And it felt good.


	2. Oceans

**Song:** _Oceans_ \- Coldplay

"You look better, Captain." Adéwalé remarked. He had agreed to accompany the _Jackdaw_ on this last trip, but he had officially handed in his notice, so to speak. When they returned to Great Inagua, Kenway would have to find himself a new quartermaster.

Edward smiled the smallest bit. It was true, he did feel less depressed than he had when they set sail. Not entirely, not by a long shot. But a little, yes. "Aye. A few weeks at sea would do any decent man some good." He stood at the helm of his ship, right hand wrapped around one spoke of the wheel, left hand clutching the parchment that contained the coordinates of their destination. They had timed their trip well. It was high noon on their specified date of arrival, and Edward knew he was within hours, at most, of discovering the purpose of the cryptic letter.

Kenway took another glance at the parchment. He knew nothing of its meaning, or of the location he had been instructed to go to, just that it was sent from Tulum. He felt it was safe to assume the author was Ah Tabai, but there was no way to confirm or disprove that suspicion. He hoped there would be some semblance of clarity by the end of the day.

The wind whipped at his face, biting and clawing, tossing his hair into his eyes. The harshness of it was welcome. It woke him up and put him in his place like a sharp slap to the cheek. The howling in his ears drowned out the memory of Anne's pained cries as she was shot down, of Mary's weak and broken pleas for him to leave her in the prison halls and escape with his own life. Kenway blinked against the salty spray of the ocean, trying to wash away the memory of the cold stone floors and cell bars. He could still smell the reek of blood and sweat and shit that had engulfed him for over a year.

They reached their destination some time after the sun had peaked and begun its descent back into the sea. At the coordinates specified on the page in Edward's hand sat a small island. The circumference of it was guarded by sharp rocks and steeply jagged cliffs. As far as Captain Kenway could tell, the only safe path up the cliff-face was connected to a sandbar on the east side of the island. The trail was hidden well by boulders and a dense array of vegetation, marked only by a trail of bare dirt pounded into the ground by many feet over many years and, above that, a few broken branches at human-height.

The _Jackdaw_ dropped anchor close to the small stretch of sand and Edward alone swam ashore. A quick survey of the scene told him that, thus far, he was alone. Gripping the hilt of one sword cautiously, he made his way up the trail and into the jungle. He stopped now and then to check for threats and traps, but there remained to be none.

He climbed through the jungle for a good, long while before there was a change in scenery. When he reached what he assumed must be the center of the island, Edward was faced with a clearing filled with many large stones. The oblong rocks were tall, equidistant, and engraved with various letters and symbols. Every one of them bore some variation of the insignia of the Assassin Order.

In an odd moment of clarity, Edward realized he had found the Brotherhood's burial grounds.

The young captain had a hard time believing anyone outside of the Order knew of the place. That knowledge significantly shortened the list of people who would direct him toward it, yet still gave him no clues as to the reason for his trip.

Kenway turned to scan the jungle, crouching behind the tombstones as he crept toward the other end of the rugged cemetery. He searched for any sign of an enemy, but found nothing, save for trees, ferns, and a lone howler monkey high in the canopy.

He walked through the forest of headstones, stooping to examine a few and wondering which of them he had killed in Havana so many years before. His chest ached with a long-overdue guilt, one of several that had started to crop up since his final conversation with Mary. He recognized none of the names, though, which was not surprising. Aside from Read and a few others that he'd helped in the past, he'd spent hardly any time with the Assassins, save for bickering with their elders. Which reminded him…

"Ah Tabai?" he called out, annoyed that he was still alone in the clearing. He'd come, as asked, and punctually for once. It was time for someone else to hold up their end. "Mentor? Are you out there?" Under any other circumstances, Edward would never have announced his presence so raucously. However, he was fully sober for the first time since losing Mary and Anne, and thus he was irritable. More than a week into chasing the mystery note across the West Indies, he was reaching the end of his patience for silence.

That's all his calls were met with, however. Silence.

Frustrated, he ripped the hidden blade off his left wrist and threw it into the ground at his feet. "Damnit!" he shouted into the empty air, kicking the headstone nearest him. "Answer me, you bastard!" There was no response.

That was his limit. Edward resolved to leave, to return to his villa, and to drink. He couldn't believe he'd let himself be lured from his cove. He could've been pissed on the beach right then, but no. He was on a fool's errand in a graveyard of recreational murderers in the middle of a jungle in a no-man's-land corner of the sea. Cursing himself under his breath, he knelt to retrieve his blade from the earth near the headstone he'd kicked a moment earlier.

Something to the side caught his eye, however. He froze.

_Mary Read_

_1692-1721_

Edward staggered toward the words etched into a grave marker several feet away. Sinking to his knees before the stone, he pressed his palm into the engravings and stared at the back of his hand, unblinking. His thumb brushed to the side, making a single word visible. _Mary_.

Such a strange torrent of emotion welled up within the young man that he was entirely unsure how to process it. Some small part of his subconscious had been holding out hope that she might have survived, but now he knew this not to be true. He could feel himself breaking, like that hope had kept him glued together. In its absence, he was fragmented. His first and strongest instinct told him to reach for the nearest bottle and drink until he couldn't feel his feet, but somehow he knew the only thing that action would earn him was more horrible dreams.

His fingers traced the rugged lines that spelled out his old friend's name. He was overcome with want to trace the lines of her face instead. Oh, the things he wouldn't give for one last chance to touch her, the woman that he had hardly known, yet had felt so familiar with.

Unable to do much else, he laughed. The sound was strikingly heavy and sad. "Mary…" he sighed, letting his hand fall from the stone. "Bloody hell, but do I miss you." His eyes stung, and he pinched them shut.

It was such a waste. Her death was such a waste. The world was in sorry lack of great people like her. It needed her. _He_ needed her. She had always pushed him to be better, more than what he was. He hadn't understood how crucial she was to his world until he realized without a doubt that she was gone. He would never see her again. Opening his eyes to the sun, he welcomed the pain and blindness that came with the act. It was an easy, simple pain with a clearly defined source, unlike the ambiguous agony and lostness that he felt when he looked at Mary's grave.

With desolation in his heart and a lump in his throat, Edward reached down to his belt and pulled out a knife. It was a long, narrow, double-edged thing with a grip of worn dark leather and a large ruby embedded in the pommel. He'd picked it off a Spanish merchant's ship more than a year earlier. It had a rugged, deadly elegance to it. It was beautiful, and it reminded him of Mary. He'd stashed it in his desk at Great Inagua to wait for such a time as he could give it to her as a gift, but he hadn't seen her again until they were both incarcerated in Jamaica. Kenway had carried it with him at all times after returning home. It was a way to keep Mary with him, knowing deep down that he would never see her again.

He turned the dagger over in his hands, biting back the emotion that threatened to overpower him as he felt himself coming undone. He'd always meant to give it to her, from the moment he'd laid his hands on it. He guessed he finally had the chance, in a way, though it hurt to think of letting it go. It felt like he was letting her go when he wanted only to cling to her like a lifeline. It was the right thing, though. "It's strange how this works, isn't it?" he grunted. "I'm finally ready to be the man I think you believed me to be, and you're not here to see it. Not here to help." He ran his thumb over the ruby one last time before setting it at the base of the headstone like the flowers most would leave at their loved ones' graves. He knew she would have liked it better than flowers.

"I said I'd be with you, didn't I?"

Edward's head snapped up at the sound of a second voice. He recognized it instantly, but was frightened to believe what it might mean.

Perched in the elbow of a curved palm tree a short ways off, leaning against the trunk, stood a ghost. Her hair was tossed around her face by the breeze, but through the black locks Edward identified an all-too-familiar face wearing an expression of mingled amusement and offense.

Kenway got angry. Teeth barred and fists clenched, he shouted, his voice full of accusation, "Is it not enough that you haunt my dreams? Must you stalk me in my waking hours as well? Leave me be!" He got to his feet and flicked his wrists so the blades attached to them engaged, just daring the hallucination to stick around.

The apparition of Mary narrowed her brow, seemingly confused, possibly concerned. "You all right, Kenway?"

"You should know the answer to that as well as I," Edward snapped, seething, biting.

The vision brushed her hair out of her eyes and dropped from her tree. Edward drew his swords as she came nearer and pointed one at her. "Stay away from me. I don't need your torments. You're gone. Dead! If I must suffer through this world without you, then have the courtesy to let me do so in peace, if nothing else!" His scathing tone turned to an anguished pleading as she drew within reach of his blade. She did not stop.

With a pained cry, he swung, all his desperation and grief driving his blade downward at the apparition's skull.

She didn't vanish upon impact as she often did in his nightmares.

Her wrist flew up, catching the flat of his sword with the blade hidden beneath her sleeve. With a twist of the engaged knife, she sliced his palm, causing him to drop his weapon into the tall grass around them. Taking advantage of his shocked pause, she knocked his other arm out of her way and elbowed his sternum. As he stumbled she gripped the guard of his remaining sword, ripped the weapon from his hand, and threw it off to the side with the other.

She took a step forward over the hilt of one of the discarded blades. Stunned, he staggered backward until his heel caught the edge of a tombstone. His mind reeled. No matter how drunken he was, he'd never experienced a hallucination that could touch him, much less disarm him.

Mary advanced slowly, hands raised, palms forward so he could see she was unarmed and her blades were retracted. "Blast, Edward, I'm not here to hurt you. What happened to you, man?"

Kenway stared back at her, uncomprehending. "You died. You're dead. I'm standing on your grave. You're not actually here. There's no way you could be."

A smile split across Mary's face and she rolled her eyes, dropping her hands at her sides. "That's what this is about? You think I'm a ghost? That I'm here to haunt you, call you names for the rest of your life?" She laughed, genuinely, and Edward was sure he'd never heard a sound more beautiful.

He took a step toward her, incredulous. He reached out his fingertips to brush her cheekbone, and she held his gaze calmly. Tentative, he let his hand settle around the curve of the side of her face. She leaned into his touch reassuringly. "Mary?" he whispered in disbelief.

"What happened to you, Kenway?" Her eyes searched his, worry creasing her brow.

"You died."

Her mouth pulled up at the corner. "In what world could you get rid of me that easily?"

Edward grinned and let his hand drop to her upper arm. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't believe that she was alive. He was a sinful man, he knew that, but he must have done something right along the way for God to grant him this, the answer to the prayers he'd been too drunk and in denial to say. "Damn, woman. How is it you're not dead?"

"Does that really need explaining?" Mary laughed and returned the greeting, clasping his opposite bicep. Neither of them were very physically expressive about true affection, but they both felt the weight of that simple gesture. It was something they'd always done, even when Mary was only James Kidd to Edward. A touch to the shoulder or arm as an affirmation of the trust they held between them. Trust was a rare commodity among pirates. Even while they constantly disagreed, or occasionally hated each other, they both knew in their bones that they would die for the other without thought, and that they could expect the same in return.

Edward pulled the parchment out of his pocket, its creases worn from the captain's abuse, repeatedly reading and folding and unfolding and reading it again. "This was you, I take it?"

Mary nodded. "Aye. Sent that the day I left Tulum. I needed you to know where to find me, and cryptic instructions seemed the best bet. Ah Tabai's capitalizing on the idea of my ill fate. You'd be surprised how much you can get done when you're dead."

Releasing her, Edward grinned and set a hand on the tombstone beside them, finally beginning to understand. "So all this is just for effect?"

His friend nodded. "Just part of the ruse. This place is known only to Assassins, with a few exceptions, but we wanted to ensure our hides were covered should someone come looking. It might also help stamp out that absurd rumor about me being a woman." She winked and crossed her arms. "Kill Mary Read, let James Kidd pop back up a few months later, guns blazing? Puts my life back to normal, at least."

Kenway laughed. "You have an interesting 'normal', lass."

She flashed a wry grin. "Don't we all, man?"

"Certainly all our friends did." The past tense made his throat burn. Their eyes met and a wordless understanding passed between them. Everyone they had sailed with, started up Nassau and rebelled against the king with, all of them were dead. The ideal of their pirate republic had all but sunk with their companions. They were alone. The last great pirates of the age.

As a result, Edward felt strikingly hollow. Empty. Without aim or purpose.

He knew Mary was different, though. She'd always had grounding in the Assassin Order. She had something to hang her name on and keep her focused. She might ignore and run from her problems often, but she always had the strength to handle whatever flew her way. He'd always admired her for it, but in that moment he finally understood the why she clung so faithfully to her commitment.

"You've been through this before, haven't you?" he asked, bewildered by his realization. It felt like he was seeing her clearly for the first time, much like the feeling he had when she revealed to him that she was a woman four years before. Things about Mary that hadn't fit together quite right before suddenly fell into their proper places. "This isn't the first time you've lost so much."

Mary arched her brow, surprised. "Perceptive, Kenway." She sighed and looked away, off at the trees, remembering days from past. "Years and years ago, I met this man in the Navy. A remarkable fighter, not too hard on the eyes, either. He caught me dressing once. Kept my secret, bless him. When our commissions were up, he asked me to marry him. We bought an inn… We were happy." She huffed and looked back to Edward. Her fawn-brown eyes were heavy, sad. She spoke slowly and evenly, and Edward knew her just well enough to know that meant she was masking a great deal of emotion. "He died two years after our wedding. His family wanted nothing to do with me after that. They said I was _uncivilized,_ which may have been true, but they really meant that I was an unwelcome burden. I had very little money of my own, and I'd borne them no children." Something in her expression broke at the last word. "There was nothing left for me in that place, so I went back to the Navy, met Ah Tabai and hitched my cart to the Assassins. Then later I went to Nassau with the pirates after the war ended. When all else is gone, the sea always remains." Her hand drifted absently to her stomach – now flat and empty – as she spoke of things lost. It couldn't be clearer that her mind was with her daughter, taken so quickly from her.

"That's why you called for me, isn't it?" Edward inferred. "You're ready to set back out to sea."

Mary grimaced. "They sank _The Revenge_ off the coast of Jamaica. Not that I'd try to retake her if she were still floating. I'm strong enough to fight, but not quite enough to win the respect of a crew."

Edward smiled slightly. "Well, there's always room on the _Jackdaw_ for a proud sailor willing to share their talents."

She smiled back. "So you'll have me?"

"Oh, I have my conditions." He smirked and crossed his arms. "It just happens that I find myself in search of a new quartermaster."

Mary snorted knowingly. "Has Adéwalé tired of your shit at long last?"

Edward narrowed his eyes in warning, but took the jab with good humor. She was actually spot-on and he couldn't deny that. "If you want to sail with me, it's on you to keep my men in line. If those terms are acceptable, it would be an honor to have you on my crew until you're fit to captain a vessel of your own again."

Mary smirked. "Twist my arm, then." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry about your hand, by the way." Her fingers dropped to his wrist, turning over it so she could examine the torn flesh of his palm. Blood had pooled in the creases of his skin and stained the already dirty hem of his sleeve.

"I've had worse," he insisted pridefuly, but flinched all the same when she touched it.

Mary let his hand drop from hers. "Tell you what, I'll patch you up myself when we get back to your ship. We've got to stop by my camp first, though. I'd rather not leave without my favorite pistols."

Edward grunted in agreement and stooped to retrieve his sword, as well as the jeweled knife he had lain before Mary's false grave. He tucked the dagger into its place on his belt. He didn't feel that the moment was right to give it to her, not yet.

As he followed Mary into the jungle, a minor realization hit him. "Hold on, if you have a camp somewhere, why did we not meet there instead of a graveyard? Did you _want_ me to think you were dead?"

She threw her head back in laughter at Edward's betrayed expression. "That _was_ the plan, but _you_ took a wrong turn! I had to come looking for you, case you'd been eaten by a jaguar."

"Maybe you wouldn't have had to if your letter had been a bit more specific," he retorted, defensive.

"Worked out for me anyway," she continued, thoughtful, with a triumphant smirk. "Made my month, watching you snivel over my grave… I had no idea you cared _so much,_ Kenway," she teased, throwing him a playful wink.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he ran his thumb over the ruby in the pommel of the knife on his belt. He was silent for a moment before muttering. "Guess that makes you an ignorant fool, then."

* * *

"Master Kidd!" Adéwalé called down from where he stood behind the wheel of the _Jackdaw_ as Edward and Mary climbed on deck of the brig. "Imagine my surprise when I spotted the captain crawling out of the jungle with you at his heels. One does hear rumors… I am gladdened to find that those about you hold no truth!"

Mary laughed as she climbed the steps to the helm, tightening the knot in the soaked wrap that held back her otherwise sweeping black hair. "As am I, mate."

Edward smiled and clapped Adé on the shoulder. "We bring good news, mate." He held his hand out toward Mary. "Jim here has agreed to take up the post of quartermaster once you've left our fine vessel."

Adé chuckled lightly, clearly pleased with this new development, and addressed Mary. "I am pleased to hear that that Edward will have a man of sense around to keep him grounded after I depart for Tulum."

Mary arched her brow, surprised and delighted. "You'll be joining the Assassin's then?"

"Aye, if you lot will have me. I'd like to do some good for this world while I yet have my youth."

"We're always eager to welcome strong fighters and good-hearted men like yourself to our cause. I'll put a word in with the Mentor, myself, if you'd like." She smiled encouragingly. "We'll be brothers before long, I reckon."

Adé nodded gratefully. "It would be much appreciated, Master Kidd." Turning to Edward, he remarked, "That's a right nasty cut you've got there, Captain. What happened?"

Mary smirked triumphantly. "I did."

Edward twisted his blood-caked hand to allow his first mate a better look. "Aye," he confirmed. "James, er, took me by surprise in the jungle. We're going to get me patched up down in my quarters. Have the men set a course for Yucatan. And see to it we're not bothered.

"Aye, Captain," Adéwalé nodded before turning to face the main deck. "Ahoy, lads! Unfurl those sails! We make heading for Tulum! Do you hear the news?"

* * *

"There you are. Good as new! Well, good enough, anyway." Mary smiled down at Edward as she knotted the ends of the bandage she had wrapped around his new stitches. She was perched on the edge of the massive desk in the captain's quarters, her legs dangling on either side of the chair he sat in while she sewed his hand back together. They'd been talking while she worked on him, catching each other up on the events that had transpired since they'd last really spoken, nearly two years before. Mary told him the details of her partnership with Rackham and Anne, and Edward regaled his ill-fated mission to the Observatory.

Edward reached up and cupped her face with his free hand, his eyes drinking in her whole form incredulously, hungrily, possessively. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, not for one moment. "I still can't believe you're alive," he muttered dazed and dreamlike.

She placed her hand over his, holding it to her cheek, rubbing the back of it reassuringly with her thumb. The skin of her hands was rough, scarred from battle, and strong as a man's, but her small fingers moved with the dexterity and care of someone who had been tying and untying ship knots since their youth. "Neither can I, some days. I could feel it, you know. I had one foot in the grave and I knew it. It was the strangest sensation…" She sighed, her eyes cast down. Her thoughts seemed distant. "Still don't know what brought me back. Bloody miracle, that was." She smiled softly at the floorboards. "Guess I'm still needed here for something."

Edward tilted her head so she'd have to look at him. "Well, that's got to be to the most obvious thing I've ever heard come out your mouth."

"Is it now?" she challenged with a distracted smirk.

"Of course it is." His hands dropped to grip hers and gave them a reaffirming squeeze. "As long as I'm around, I can promise that you'll always be needed."

Mary chuckled lightheartedly. "You'd best not go kickin' off then. You might just be the only thing keeping me in this world."

Edward didn't laugh with her. "I'm being serious, Mary. When I thought I'd lost you, when I thought you were dead… I've never fallen so low in my life. And to think you'd died seeing me as nothing more than that same green boy, playing at piracy, nothing more than a power-hungry lout driven only by his lust for gold—"

"Oi!" Mary cut him off sharply. "I never saw you that way. It may have been how you acted, or who you were when you first set foot in Nassau, but I always knew you weren't a simple man, Edward. Simple pleasures were only going to keep you interested for so long. There was always more to you than your greed, even if you won't believe it, yourself."

He held her gaze and was quiet for a moment before releasing her hands. He pulled the ruby knife out of his belt and pressed it into her right palm, wrapping her lithe fingers around the hilt with his own. He saw in her gaze that she made the connection between the object in her hands and the one she'd seen him set before her grave. "I pulled this off a ship well over a year ago. It was one of the last prizes I took before I ventured to the Observatory. The moment I spotted it, I wanted you to have it." He ran a fingertip along the edge of the blade. It was so sharply honed that it could have cut through silk, he thought. There was a bead of blood on his finger when he pulled it away. "It's deadly and simple, but also beautiful," he muttered with a small smile at Mary. "It seemed a fitting weapon for an Assassin of those same qualities."

Mary's eyes were soft as she turned the dagger over in her hands feeling the leather grip beneath her palms and tracing the edge of the jewel in the pommel. "I think I'll call it _Venganza_. It's what the Spanish called my ship. If I'm going to get my revenge on that bastard Templar, Torres, for hunting my people and taking my child, it's only fitting that I do it with a blade of that name."

Edward looked away for a moment, thoughtful, then sighed. "When we dock in Tulum, I think I'd like to stay for a while. I couldn't count how many mistakes I've made, how many people I've hurt, but I'm finally ready to right some of the wrongs my actions have caused. And I'd like to start with the Assassins."

Mary smiled softly. Her expression was one of unbounded pride. "I always knew you'd change course."


	3. Siren

**Song:** _Siren_ \- The Graduate

Edward leaned against the wall of the hut, just outside the door. "Mary?" he called inside. "You in there, lass?" He glanced across the small swamp to another hut – lifted, like all the others, high off the ground by scaffolding – that he shared with Adéwalé. His roommate and ex-quartermaster waved at him from the path to the cove, indicating that the captain should hurry. Their Mentor would be waiting for them at the _Jackdaw_. Kenway gave the man a curt nod, indicating that he should go on ahead.

"Aye!" A response came from within the hut. "C'mon in, Edward."

He ducked through the curtain that was draped across the hut's entrance. Mary was across the round room, standing over a bowl of water on the table that she was using to rinse mud and other grime from her arms. She'd spent her morning assisting in the training of several newer recruits to the Order. Her coat, vest, and shirt were laid out neatly on her cot, leaving her exposed on top, save for the long strip of cloth she wrapped tightly around her torso to keep her chest bound flat. Her hair was down, cast loosely around her shoulders and across her collarbone in a way that Kenway found very distracting. He respectfully, if reluctantly, looked away.

"We about ready to leave?" Mary asked as she crossed over to the wall where she hung her blades and pistols.

Kenway nodded and sank into a chair by the bed while his quartermaster checked various pouches for gold and ammo and the like before strapping them to her belt. There was a set to her mouth that he didn't like. It was calculating, grim, serious, a look he hadn't seen since she'd chewed him out that one morning in Great Inagua after Nassau went under. "Aye. I checked with Abbott this morning. He tells me we've got enough supplies to last us a month or so at sea. We'll have to restock the hold when we next make landfall if we plan on chasing down all our targets before coming back home, but we're fine enough for now. The crew will be on deck at the ready within the hour."

Mary pursed her lips and strode over to her cot to shrug into her shirt. "Have we heard from Antó yet?"

Edward nodded and laced his fingers over his stomach, relaxed. "Aye, he's expecting us by the end of the week. Says he has a few good leads as to where Rogers will be during the next few days."

"And what of Torres?" Mary pressed, thoughtful, as she fastened her vest.

"All reports say he's in Havana, as he has been for several months. No word yet on Roberts, since I know you were about to ask." Mary frowned at this and Edward leaned forward in his chair, handing her her coat. "Are you alright, mate? You've been on edge ever since we decided to leave."

Her eyes flashed to his, seeming black in the limited light of the hut, just bright enough for him to read the calculating, planning expression they held. Mary was exceptionally talented at keeping her cool, but she was also intensely passionate. Step in her way while she was on a mission and she would cut you down without a bat of an eyelash. Edward had grown to love that about her. When it wasn't directed at him, of course.

"These rats that we're hunting," she seethed. She was more than ready to end the long fight, that much was clear. "They are everything that is evil in this world and more, and that's without even mentioning that they took my child. When I recovered, Edward, the first thing I did was search for her. You know what I found? Torres. One of Antó's men told me that Spanish shanker took my daughter straight from the doctor's arms. That's the last anyone saw of her for certain." She yanked her belt into place and fastened it around her waist. Frustrated, she hissed, "I don't know what they've done with her. They could have killed her. They could be keeping her alive to raise into the Templar Order. I'm not sure which would be worse."

"We can't be sure they still have her, you know. I don't see a man like Torres troubling himself with a small girl just to spite his enemies. It's more likely that he sent her off to an orphanage somewhere we wouldn't think to look and washed his hands of it." Edward wasn't sure he believed his words, but he always was the temperately optimistic (if cocky or injudicious) one in their discussions. Mary was a sound voice of reason in all things, but her harsh rationality wasn't entirely practical in that situation, he thought, though he knew she would disagree.

Mary sighed heavily. "It doesn't matter right now, though. We have a job to do. I'd like to cut these bastards down before they suck up any more of my sea's perfectly good air."

Edward handed her the red cloth she used to wrap up her hair. "We should head down to the cove. Ah Tabai and Adé are waiting to send us off." He stood and offered her his arm.

Mary scoffed mischievously as she finished tying her hair back. "When are you going to learn, Edward?" Ignoring his gesture, she strode coolly over to the door and turned back to look at him. "I may be a woman but I'm far from a lady." With a playful wink, she dropped down out of the shack.

Edward dashed through the long curtain to see her already halfway down the path at a flat-out sprint. Just inviting a chase.

He couldn't help the warm smile that crossed his face. Mary was remarkable, challenging, and frustrating, saving him from himself time and time over, and damn it if he wasn't absolutely mad about her.

* * *

A few short days later, the _Jackdaw_ dropped anchor in Kingston and sent word of their arrival to the bureau. Arrangements were made for a meet in the evening.

"Captain Kenway! Captain Kidd!" Antó hailed the pair when they reached the stretch of beach where they had agreed to rendezvous.

"It's just Kidd," Mary corrected and clapped her Assassin brother on the shoulder. "I'm sailing under this here lout now." She nodded to Edward, who elbowed her good-naturedly with a fond smile. The two of them had been getting on quite well since they'd set off from Tulum. The captain had been more than pleased to find that they worked so well together when their aims were in tandem. It was much more enjoyable than fighting, thought that could be fun at times, as well.

Antó grinned. The Assassins seemed glad all around that the once-rogue Kenway was folding into their mix so seamlessly. "I imagine, though, that you govern that vessel with just as broad a grip as he."

"You'd be right about that," Edward confirmed, proud and approving. Mary reigned with a harsh voice and a soft hand aboard his brig, and the crew both loved and respected her for it. She'd made life on the _Jackdaw_ simpler and more efficient for them all. The woman was a master sailor and the whole crew knew it, though they still thought her a man. "Speaking of governors, do you have something for us?"

Antó nodded. "The present whereabouts of the Templar Woodes Rogers. He's attending a small political function, so do it clean."

Edward smirked. "The word is King George is calling Rogers back to London."

There was a subtle, gleeful twinkle in the Maroon Assassin's eye that betrayed his otherwise composed demeanor. "Aye, not too happy with his progress in Nassau."

"Still too many pirates roaming about from what I hear." Mary chimed in, crossing her arms, her expression smug.

Antó smiled. "You two will need a disguise to fool the powderheads at this party. I suggest the visiting diplomat, Ruggiero Ferraro, and his wife, Cortessa. They've been on our lists for some time." He pointed to a fine schooner sitting in the harbor, too rich in appearance to have belonged to a merchant. "That there is your prize, the _Santa Bianca_. You'll find your targets aboard. The gathering is in about an hour, so you'd best hurry."

"Understood," said Edward, but he paused. With an uncertain glance at Mary, he pulled a letter out of his coat. He'd drafted it a few days earlier, deciding it was time to finally fix things back home. His last few months with Mary and the Assassins had proven to him that he truly was ready to tie up the stray ends he had cut loose in his youth. He was ready to be a better man. "Will you send this to England for me?" he asked Antó.

The other man nodded. "Aye. A ship leaves tomorrow."

Edward handed over the letter. "Caroline Scott-Kenway. Hawkin's Lane, Bristol."

Mary shifted her weight to her other foot, but said nothing. Edward tried to tell himself that she wasn't one of the reasons he was doing this.

* * *

Edward held his robes out in front of him; his Assassin robes, not the red coat he was now wearing, courtesy of the Italian diplomat lying dead on the floor. He remembered when Ah Tabai had returned them to him as he departed Tulum on the day he'd thought was the last he would spend with Mary. _'You haven't earned these… but they suit you.'_ Those had been his words, thought Edward knew what he'd really meant by them. _'Mary would want you to have these.'_

Pushing that difficult memory from his mind, he straightened Ruggiero Ferraro's robes on his shoulders (the coat was a bit too narrow) and folded his own over his arm before making his way above deck. It was time to finish his long dispute with captain Woodes Rogers.

The crew of the _Santa Bianca_ had been locked in the hold until the completion of the mission to prevent anyone from escaping and alerting the guards to the Italian diplomat's murder. Edward didn't need people asking why a dead man was attending a party. Several of Kingston's finest Assassins were roaming the deck to give the illusion of a manned ship, just in case anyone on shore was looking too closely at the harbor.

The Maroon guarding the Ferraros' personal quarters took Kenway's own clothes from him for safekeeping and opened the doors to allow the young captain entry.

"Mary?" Edward called out as he closed the door behind him. A frightened-looking servant girl nearly collided with him as she swept past, a voluminous green gown in her arms. The young woman stammered apologies in Italian that he didn't understand as she ducked behind a dressing screen, pointedly not looking at her former mistress' body, propped in a chair, as she stepped around it. Mary had been efficient in her end of the ship's seizure, it would appear.

"Almost ready," her voice came from behind the screen. There was a small grunt and a stream of swears directed high-class women's clothing. Edward heard the sounds of fabric being tugged on and the heavy footfall of someone staggering against a pull on their own weight. He leaned against a desk and waited patiently for the maid to finish lacing his quartermaster into her disguise. To pass the time, he played with the mechanisms in his hidden blades, watching them engage and disengage and he flicked his wrists in different ways.

After a few minutes, the sounds of protest behind the screen stopped and Mary stepped out into the room. Edward nearly cut himself.

Her emerald-green dress was floor length with sleeves to her elbows, a little off the shoulders, and had a low-cut front. The skirt and sleeves were embellished with gold thread. Her hair was tied back loosely with a thin, red ribbon and her skin had been powdered to give her the air of an upper-class socialite woman instead of a sailor who spent their days laboring under the bright ocean sun. Not much could be done to hide the scar that ran across her right eye, but it wasn't so prominent against the makeup she was wearing. There was no hope for covering the tattoo on her chest. Her lipstick was vivid red, like blood. Because he knew Mary, he had to think it all very ridiculous, but the objective observer of women in him could think of nothing to say other than that she was beautiful.

He straightened, pushing away from the desk, and watched as Mary fussed with the folds of fabric at her sides that gave her hips the appearance of a wider breadth. The serving girl danced around them nervously, gathering Mary's own discarded clothes and casting them fearful glances, like they might slit her throat if she breathed too heavily.

Mary gave him an inquisitive look, seeking his opinion. Kenway responded with a wistful once-over glance at her figure, normally quite firm and boyish, made to seem supple and voluptuous by the shaping corset and tight-fitting bodice she now wore. "Hell, Mary. I liked you well enough as a man, but if I had to choose…"

"I should've dressed as your guard or something more practical. Anything but a proper woman," she grumbled, ignoring his assessment and clawing at the constricting laces on the back of her outfit. "The corsets are bloody fucking tight."

"I'm more worried about you being unarmed than uncomfortable." He stepped forward and reached out to touch the long cuffs that hung from her elbows. "These won't exactly hide your wrist blades."

Mary raised an eyebrow, as if asking how he could possibly think she'd be so foolish as to be unarmed in any moment. She hitched up her skirt, revealing _Venganza_ strapped to her boot. Of course she was still wearing her boots under that gown. Edward nodded and she let the fabric fall back into place. "It's not ideal, but it'll do if we get ourselves in a spot."

"Take this as well, then." Edward pulled a small throwing knife no bigger than his ring finger out of his belt and handed it to her. She slipped it down the front of her dress into a tight space between her corset and bodice where it wouldn't slip. "A dagger could be risky in hand-to-hand while you're in that dress, so strike 'em down from a distance if you can."

Mary arched her brow, a small, humored smile lighting her face. "You think you can give me combat pointers, do you? Are you forgetting who taught you to throw a knife in the first place?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, accenting her point.

Edward smiled fondly at the memory. It had been in Nassau, shortly after its establishment as a pirate republic and his own defection from privateering. He'd been wandering the swamps, exploring his new haven, when he'd happened upon a young boy he'd believed to be no more than 16 at the time, sticking knives in trees from 20 paces. Having never learned, himself, Edward had asked the lad to show him how it was done. What ensued was an arduous and frustrating evening of missed targets set to the tune of Kidd's mocking instruction and playful jeers. By the end of the night, though, James had proven himself an effective tutor and a capable fighter with a wit sharper than his wide variety of blades. It had set the stage for a fruitful and fond (if occasionally explosive) friendship.

"Well, if your weapons should fail, you can cut them down just as easily with your words. Or that smile…" he muttered, teasingly brushing her check with his knuckles. He tried not to let his fingers linger. She looked so tempting, even if the whole outfit was rather gaudy, particularly for Mary.

She batted his hand away with a friendly warning glare, and he reminded himself that this was his best friend, not some Betty in a tavern to be charmed by the size of his pistols.

He offered her his arm. "Now, if you're ready, we do have a party to attend."

She reluctantly laced her arm through his, settling into character. The maid passed her her clothing to be left with the Assassins for collection later, and in exchange Mary tucked a small purse of coins into the girl's hand. Compensation for her troubles, though Edward knew Mary enjoyed sharing what wealth that piracy afforded her.

* * *

"Salve!" Edward called in greeting to the guards as they approached the party venue. He felt Mary stiffen on his arm. Catching the attention of these men usually led to a fight. It went against both of their instincts to smile and wave hello to them. Laying on an accent, he continued, "Forgive the lateness of our arrival. I am Ruggiero Ferraro, and this is my wife, Cortessa."

Once of the guards gave them a lazy nod, not seeming to care too much about their punctuality, or lack thereof. "Aye, Mister Ferraro. Not a problem." Another guard waved them through.

It was all too easy to locate their target. He stood at the top of the stairs leading up to the gazebo that sat proudly in the center of the garden. A glass was raised in his hand, and it was obvious from his posture that it was not his first drink of the evening.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man shouted raucously. "A toast to my brief tenure as governor of the Bahamas! For, under my watch, no less than three-hundred avowed pirates took the King's Pardon and swore fealty to the crown!"

Mary scoffed and turned to whisper in Edward's ear, "A great deal that means. I took the Pardon and got right back out on the sea. Kept the dogs off my scent for a few weeks, though."

Edward smirked, turning his head to face her. Her warm brown eyes, inches from his, glittered with amusement at the irony that the crown's campaign to end piracy had just as much helped as hindered her own piratical endeavors. Pride warmed his chest at her mettle.

Rogers then finished toasting the king's poor health and began to mingle with his guests. Edward began leading Mary by the arm through the crowd after the captain.

"We need to get him away from the party so we can question him about Roberts without prying ears," Edward muttered. "I'm open to suggestions."

Mary kept her gaze forward, but he had fought and now trained alongside her long enough to tell by the way she held her head and shoulders that she was using the Sense to scout out optimal secluded spaces in the gardens. She wasn't quite as naturally gifted with their Other Eyes as he himself was, and she had to work harder to see the same things he saw, but she took every chance she had to develop the invaluable skill. "There's a bench on the far side of the house that I fancy. Rumor has it that our poor friend Woodes found himself on the wrong side of Mrs. Rogers' scorn some years ago, but he's kept their separation secret until quite recently, for political reasons that are now… no longer relevant, after his dismissal. I'm sure a lonely man like him wouldn't object to some _private_ time out of sight of the party." She flashed Edward a wink and a subtle smile.

He responded with a coy grin. "Oh, he won't object. Not to you. Not if he has a pulse."

That comment elicited a laugh from her.

The pair swung closer to where Rogers was griping to yet another party-goer about the injustice of his dismissal.

"Are you certain our man won't recognize you?" Edward asked, slightly concerned. "He was at your trial."

"It was five minutes nearly a year ago," Mary countered. "It wasn't like we were properly introduced. I'm more worried about _you_. You're the one he's got it out for. Stay out of his sight, or he might make me."

"I hear you." Edward nodded. "I'll be waiting by the bench. Don't take too long. And don't let him get too comfortable with you." With a teasing smirk, he let her arm slip from his and steered himself around the edge of the building.

* * *

From his seat on the bench, Edward could not see the party. Even its sounds seemed distant and incoherent. Yes, it was an ideal location for carrying out a contract, but the waiting was excruciating. It gave him a sense of helplessness, like he was cut off from the mission. Mary could land herself in trouble and he might not realize it until it was too late. He knew it was unlikely, and she was one of the most competent fighters in the West Indies, anyway. She'd probably shave off clean if there _was_ a brawl, but he hated just sitting there, not knowing.

Much to his relief, a familiar voice drew nearer after not too long, joined by a second familiar – but far less welcome – voice.

"… and I must pack up my sword collection tomorrow to prepare for my journey home, but I suppose I could give you a special, last-minute viewing." Rogers' words were laden with swank and pride and lots of drink. Edward turned and ducked his head as they rounded the corner.

"Maybe I'd like that… How big are they?" Mary this time, her voice sultry and suggestive. Edward took a start at her tone, and it occurred to him that he'd never heard her try to be alluring before. She was surprisingly good at it, he thought, more convincing than most whores he'd been with. He was so thrown by that observation that he almost missed his mark.

"Yes, large and powerful enough to frighten a delicate little lady like yourself," Rogers boasted, playing into her hand like a trained dog.

Edward's hand flashed forward, burying his engaged wristblade up to his palm in other man's side as he walked in front of the bench. Without blinking, Mary gripped their target by the arm and waist and eased him down to sit next to her captain.

The blonde Assassin leaned in as Mary took a seat on the other side of the dying man. "She's hardly delicate, mate," he hissed tauntingly in Rogers' face.

Rogers sighed heavily, seeming more annoyed than angry. "Kenway. Of course it'd be you. I dedicate my life to mopping up the infestation that pirates are, only to be slain by their ringmaster as my great career draws to a close. How fucking poetic."

Edward frowned, almost saddened by the misguided man bleeding out in front of him. "You were a privateer once. How is it you lack so much respect for sailors only trying to make their way in this world?"

"You couldn't possibly understand my motives, cretin!" Rogers spat. "You, who have spent a whole lifetime dismantling everything that makes our civilization shine!"

"But I do understand! I've seen the Observatory and I know its power. You'd use that device to spy and blackmail and sabotage."

"Yes, and yet all for a greater purpose," Rogers insisted, his breaths becoming increasingly labored by the word. "To ensure justice! To snuff out lies and to seek truth!"

Mary, who had been silent until that point, muttered, "There's no man on Earth who needs that power."

"Yet you suffer the outlaw Roberts to use it," Rogers argued.

Edward shook his head. "No, we're taking it back. And if you tell us where he is, we'll stop the man."

Woodes Rogers laughed, and the sound was tired. World-weary. "Here at the edge of a blade, I find a friend in you at last. Príncipe, you mad bastard." Resignedly, the man drew in his final breath. "Our best sources say Príncipe…"

There was a frightened gasp to Edward's right and he twisted to see a young couple standing in the path.

"What's happened? Is captain Rogers hurt?" the girl questioned, frantic. "Is it a revolt? What happened?"

The boy, though, saw the engaged blade on Edward's arm. "Guards! Murderer!" he shouted. "That man there! The Italian! He did it!"

Without a moment's pause, Mary pulled her ruby dagger off her leg and ripped at the fabric on the front of her skirt. Edward leaned over Rogers' corpse to help her, tearing her legs free of the restricting dress before pulling the hidden blade off his left arm and shoving it into her hands.

"Split up. Meet me back at the bureau," he hissed.

"See you on the other side." With a small smile she dove east down the road, slipping the blade on as she ran. He turned and sprinted west.

* * *

Antó was waiting when Edward reached the Assassin encampment. Mary was nowhere to be seen, but he knew better than to worry.

The Maroon opened the sack that sat on the ground by his chair and pulled out two sets of clothing, which he laid atop a table.

"It's done," Edward grunted as he picked up his own Assassin robes.

"Where now?" the older man asked.

"We're sailing for Africa," said Edward as he undid the clasps on Ruggiero Ferraro's coat. "Send word to my men, would you? Have them stock the ship, prepare for the journey."

"Aye." Antó nodded and left without another word.

When Edward was nearly finished changing, Mary dropped from a rooftop looking out of breath, the ragged tails of her dress dragging in the dust and her scraped knees exposed where they had cut the fabric in their escape. Her hair had fallen out of its ribbon and was cast around her face, matted in places with blood that was clearly not her own. With an angry huff, she took the knife in her hand and ripped the front of her already tattered dress from bust to knee, shrugging out of it like a coat. Striding forward in her undergarments, she dropped Edward's wristblade by her pile of clothes. It was freshly coated red.

"Run into some trouble?" Edward asked, strapping the weapon back onto his arm.

" _Almost_ trouble," Mary corrected. She perched herself on the table and slipped out of her boots so she could pull on her trousers. "So, I think I like Cortessa. The guards don't hunt her until she does something she shouldn't. I still hate the clothes, though."

Edward nodded with an amused smile while he fastened the buckled on one of his holsters. "Aye, she was very useful."

"I think I might keep her," Mary said, pondering, as she pulled her boots back on.

"How do you mean?" Edward asked, confused.

"Well, Mary Read is dead now, officially, and I find I enjoy using an alias from time to time. Cortessa seems as good an option as any," she explained with a small shrug.

Edward nodded understanding. "Aye, but might you want to pick something more… English? A name is easy to fake, but an whole nationality? Not so much so, I imagine."

Mary gave it a moment's thought. "All right. Just Tessa, then."

Edward smiled approvingly, then threw a glance over his shoulder at what was once a fine Italian gown, now laying crumpled and torn in a heap in the dirt. "Damned shame that dress didn't survive the ordeal. I was rather fond of it." He laughed and leaned forward on his elbows, giving Mary a wry smile, his head tilted just a bit. He was painfully aware that this position put him at about eye level with her chest, and it was all he could do not to think back to the effectively seductive ploy she'd used on Rogers.

Mary laughed, frustrated. "You didn't have to wear it, mate." She radiated breathless irritation. "Bloody impractical, nearly impossible to fight or run in…"

Edward smirked. "I think you'll be in a much better mood once you get out of this thing," he muttered, reaching out – almost without thinking – with one blade and catching the taut string at the top of her corset where it tied it the middle. The tension combined with the sharp edge of his knife was too much for the weak lacing and it snapped with a tiny movement from his wrist.

Mary held his gaze calmly, not moving away. "Aye, you're likely right about that." There was something in her eyes that he couldn't read... Did she want him to keep going? _He_ certainly did...

Edward suddenly stiffened and pulled back. What the hell was he doing? He was trying to mend things with his wife. He couldn't be thinking like this. Whores were one thing, but Mary wasn't the kind of woman he fucked once just to clear his head. She was the most important person in his world. Their friendship was everything to him. He didn't want this. He didn't want her. He just… He'd been at sea too long without reprieve.

Angry with himself, with his weakness, Edward turned on heel and stalked toward the street.

"Oi!" Mary called after him. "Where are you headed off to?"

"I need a night off," he growled, running his fingers through his hair, his movements aggravated. "Grab your kit and pack well. Get the crew in line. We'll be leaving the sunrise after next."

He turned the corner without allowing himself to look back at Mary, sitting on the table, confused and half-dressed. He needed to find rum, and he needed to find himself a woman. Fortunately for him, he was well familiar with every tavern in the West Indies, and Kingston's was like his second home. Not that he had much of a first home to begin with.


	4. Gold

**Song:** _Gold_ – Sir Sly

The crew roared. Raucous jeers were tossed from side to side. A bottle still half-full bottle of rum was smashed against the inside of the hull. The captain had claimed one of Kidd's chips.

Nine Men's Morris had evolved into something of an extreme sport aboard the _Jackdaw_. The lengthy weeks of sea between Jamaica and Africa could make a man appreciative of any form of entertainment, but the fierce competition between the ship's two highest-ranking commanders had driven the hype to new, occasionally dangerous heights. Brawls broke out nearly every night and if you didn't take a jarring blow to the head, the next morning's hangover would make you wish you had.

It was really Mary's game – coordinating individual pieces to eliminate an opponent – but Edward held his own fairly well. He'd only lost 10 of the 17 games they'd played that week, and he was fixing to win the one in front of them at that moment. The men had taken to forming cheering sections and placing high-stakes bets on their favorite to win. The players themselves used gold coins – and small jewels, when available – from the day's raids as game tokens, winner take all.

Some captains discouraged gambling on their ships because of the animosity it often bred between otherwise cooperative, amicable sailors, but no man was destitute for very long under the black banner held by Kenway and Kidd. If he lost all he had to his mate one night, the next day would see him lining his purse with twice as much as he'd had before. The African trade routes had proven very prosperous, due to the decreased competition on the east side of the Atlantic.

Because their games so boosted the morale of the crew, Edward and Mary had agreed together to continue them nightly until they had heard word of Roberts. Their escapade across the ocean had thus far turned up unfruitful, though they stopped at every port town along the African coast on their way south, asking after the _Royal Fortune_. They were set to reach Príncipe within the next few days, but as of yet there had been no real confirmation that he was even still there.

Mary narrowed her eyes as Edward removed from the table one of her coins, which had been lined up to form a mill in her next turn. However, this action sent her into the 'flying' stage, which made a dangerous opponent of a talented player like her.

With an ominous smirk crossing her face, she laughed and took a swig of rum and propped her elbows on the table. The crewmen were loaded to the gunwales, but she and the captain only drank enough to keep their game interesting. With an expert glint in her eye, she dropped one of her chips into a new place on the board that she'd carved into a mess-hall table with her knife some weeks earlier. This action effectively blocked Edward's only available route to reuse that mill.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she held his gaze evenly, prompting. The piece she had moved had been the only thing preventing him from making a long play that would wipe her out in a small few minutes. That was the reason she'd had it where she did. A quick scan of the board indicated no reason to worry she might be playing him, and another glance at her confirmed his suspicion. She was ever so subtly throwing the game.

Edward wasn't affronted by this. It was acknowledgement that he was going to have won the round, anyway. Mary was infamous for her artful and deadly ability to go down swinging, but she also knew when it was wisest to bow out and maintain dignity. Evidently, she wasn't looking for a fight to the death that night. He knew that, but she didn't have to let the men betting on her know that.

Taking the bottle of rum out of her hands, he gladly obliged and swept up the game in a few short moves. The majority of the crew had had their money on Kidd, though their displeased groans were well matched by the merry cheers of victory on Edward's side. Mary leaned back from the table, arms crossed, and nodded yieldingly to her captain.

"All right, lads. I'm had for the night," Kenway announced, sweeping his winnings into his pocket with a broad smile while his men patted him on the back proudly. Coins changed hands to the tune of dissatisfied grunts and pleased whoops and shouts all around the mess hall as debts were settled for the evening.

Mary pushed away from the table and he joined her in heading back to their shared cabin. Edward had insisted that she move into the captain's quarters when she'd joined up, to better keep her secret. No need for her to bunk with a bunch of drunken sailors when they could just as easily fit her cot into the more private room beneath the helm. She had argued that she was, herself, a 'drunken sailor' and well used to the company of other 'drunken sailors', but he had refused to concede, citing his crew's inherent lack of boundaries, which had only led to more arguing. Eventually, though, she had given in, and Edward had had new keys made for the room; one for him, one for her, none for any other man on the ship. No explanation was given to the crew, who had been uneasy about the new situation at first – which Mary and Edward never addressed with each other, though he could tell she found it endlessly amusing. All wariness about it had long since been forgotten by the time that they'd reached Africa, however.

Edward locked the door behind them when they reached their quarters, as he usually did. "You know," he began, teasing. "If you're finding yourself bored with Nine Men's, we can always find another method of keeping the crew's minds occupied."

Mary cast a glance at him over her shoulder as she strode toward the desk, smirking in amusement. "The only thing I'm bored of, mate, is my lack of an opponent worth his salt."

Edward furrowed his brow, playfully defensive as he joined her at the navigation table. "I'll remind you that I beat you out twice tonight, fair and square. Perhaps you should not give in so easily. Might make it more entertaining for the both of us." With a cheeky smile, he poured them both a drink from the bottle already on the desk from the night before. Mary settled into a chair and put her feet up after being handed hers, while Edward leaned against a structural beam across from his friend.

She took a long swig of her rum and sat thinking for a moment before speaking. "All right, aye, I am growing tired. But of our journey, not the game. We've gone too long without news. We should know something more by now. I don't like sailing in blind like this." She narrowed her eyes, her gaze far off as she absently rubbed the rim of her tankard with her thumb.

"We'll be in Príncipe in a day's time. Two, at most. If he has left, someone there must know where he went. I'm sure they'll be more than agreeable when we come asking." His tone was plotting.

Mary laughed, still staring unheedingly at the floor. "Ah, the fearsome Captain Kenway, ever-ready cut loose information from a tight-lipped man."

He chuckled warmly. "While I do so despise being unable to live up to the legend of my name in _any_ form, I've come to find that gold speaks far more readily than a blade. And why take a life when you can make a new friend in business?"

She looked to watch him sip his drink, her eyes wide, clearly pleased with an edge of disbelief. "Why, Edward Kenway. Is it possible that you've finally come to understand what it is to be wise?"

He frowned. "I wouldn't play at so grand of an accomplishment as that. Not by the standard you are accustomed to, at any rate. I sometimes still struggle to get a grasp on your Creed. For if nothing is true, then why believe anything? And if everything is permitted, then why not chase every desire?"

Mary smiled softly. "Why, indeed?"

"It might be that this idea is only the beginning of wisdom, and not its final form." He shook his head, reveling in the enormous possibility behind such a concept that he was only gradually understanding. "I imagine you comprehend much more in this mantra than I yet do. Your years with the Assassins have afforded you a wisdom that I still find difficult to understand." And he meant this. The shrewd judiciousness she displayed daily had baffled him since their first meeting. She had about her an intelligence and insight into the world that had always had a way of picking at his conscience, even when he least welcomed it. Such a level of sagaciousness had always been hard for him to believe of a boy not yet out of his teens. It counted among the list of things that hadn't made sense to him before the revelation that James was indeed a woman, but fell firmly into place afterward.

"It'll come with time, I trust. There's so much yet for you to see," she offered with an affectionate grin. "Just try not to cock anything up to massively for me in the meantime, yeah?"

"Oh, I'll do my very best," Edward drawled sarcastically in return. He knocked back the last of his rum and started toward his bed. His vest – a piece he was very proud of, as it was crafted from sharks that he himself had killed – was tossed aside and his shirt soon followed. The cool night air blowing off the sea and in through the open windows brushed across the bare skin of his torso, and the chill was welcome. It vaguely reminded him of the nippy weather of the little welsh town he'd been born in. He hadn't enjoyed that place too terribly, and it stood in such sharp contrast to the warm, lush, jungled seas he had grown to love back in the New World, but cooler temperatures invoked nostalgia for the simple joys and ease of childhood.

He settled onto his mattress with his head leaned back against the wall, facing the room, and pulled his boots off. Mary finished off her own drink as he tossed them unceremoniously to the floor. While he watched her shrug lazily out of her olive-colored coat and wrestle to get her chest bindings out from under her blouse, he marveled for the hundredth time at her ability to keep up such a detailed ruse for more than twenty years. She truly was the most remarkable person he'd known in all his life, even if she was measured only by that single accomplishment.

She turned to look at him, her mouth opened to speak, but she caught him watching her. "If you'd really like to watch a woman undress, I could leave you at the next port town and pick you up at the brothel after I kill Roberts," she suggested teasingly, twisting her wrist to remind him that she was, as always, armed.

He averted his gaze, marginally startled at having been caught staring. "No! No, it's not that." _This time._ "It just surprises me occasionally... We've been mates for nearly a decade and sailed together for the better part of a year, yet you still give me pause at times... Still make me want to better myself." Losing her, or at least thinking he had, had made one thing vividly clear to him: he would fight any fight, live any life, believe any Creed that could give him the slightest hope of being worthy to stand by this woman's side and be called her friend. This was never plainer in his mind than in those quiet moments of the night where no one and no place needed exist other than him and her and the small cabin they called their own.

Mary sat on the edge of her cot and looked away out the windows at stern of their brig with a small smile. "Your new-found wisdom is making you soft, mate."

Edward laughed and realized quietly in the privacy of his own mind that he really didn't have a good response to that observation. Stretching out on his mattress, he put out the lamp at his bedside while Mary finished preparing for the night by the light of her own. The silence between them was easy.

* * *

He laid awake for about an hour after they were both settled. His mind was busy and sleep evaded him. From the aggravated sounds of movement coming from Mary's side of the dark cabin, he could tell that she was no better off. It had been the same for the previous few nights. The closer they came to Roberts, the less rest either of them were able to get. He had hoped that the rum they'd had before bed would help, but, while it addled their brains, it did little to stunt their anxious and impatient thoughts.

After a particularly noisy pillow punch from Mary, Edward couldn't help the dark laugh that escaped his lips. "I think I'd gut Roberts for no reason other than getting a good night's rest, by this point," he mumbled.

She grunted in vague agreement. "The sooner we cut him down, the sooner you can get some sleep. And the sooner I can go after Torres for my daughter."

Mildly startled, Edward propped himself up on his elbows. Some of the weary and buzzed fog in his mind parted, waking him up a bit. Anymore, she wouldn't talk about her child unless there was rum in her hand and more in her belly. She must have had a few more drinks that night than he'd thought. "Is that why you're so restless? You're eager to be back home?"

She rolled onto her side to face him, their eyes finding each other in what little moonlight filtered through the grime edging the windows. "And you're not?"

"Of course I am. But for different reasons, it would seem." That didn't mean he didn't want to find her daughter. He would cut down the whole of the British Navy to find that child for his friend. Although, the dark, selfish part of his mind that he'd originally grown to associate with his thirst for esteem and wealth balked against the idea of the baby girl's existence. He refused to acknowledge it while he had full control of his thoughts, but he knew deep down that he was loath to look upon her. There would be much of Mary in her, to be sure; her hair, perhaps, or the sharp warmth of her fawn-colored eyes, maybe the line of her nose. But there would be parts of her father, as well, and Edward found that deeply unsettling. In the frighteningly still moments of the night where he was entirely alone with himself, he begrudgingly had to admit that on some level he was trying to convince himself that that man, and subsequently that child, had never been a part of Mary's life.

And in those moments, he found himself hoping that she thought the same about his wife.

He was silent for a moment before his lips moved to ask a question that had been burning in his mind since the day of her trial nearly two years before, when he'd found out about her pregnancy. A question he likely never would have asked while sober, no matter the length of time that had passed. "Did you love him? The man who fathered your child, did you love him?"

Mary gave a surprised laugh, obviously startled by his sudden curiosity. He'd never been one to pry into her personal affairs. "That depends. Did you love those twins you took to bed the other night?"

Edward flashed her a wry grin through the darkness, though he understood what she was getting at. And odd sensation of relief washed through his system like a hearty swig of rum to numb a wound. "Oh, believe you me, my love for those girls was strong. Passionate..." He sighed wistfully, somewhat for effect.

She snorted. "Aye, and you 'loved' them all over my cot. I'm still pissed at you for that, by the way." Her upper lip pulled up in a disgusted sneer and she reached above her head for a tankard sitting on a shelf, lobbing it at his head.

He ducked with a devilish snicker and the mug hit the wall behind him, crashing noisily to the floorboards. "Call it the heat of the moment." He caught another glare, sharpened by the moonlight reflected in her eyes, and he sighed in submission, though his broad grin didn't lessen. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." He raised his hands in a gesture to say 'please don't throw a knife next'.

Mary grunted, the sound half-amused, and rolled back over to face the wall. "I'll be holding you to that, Kenway. But it can wait 'til tomorrow. I ain't staying up all night so you can clear your conscience."

Edward cast an affectionate smirk at her back, appreciating the gentle way her narrow shoulders rose and fell with each breath. "'Goodnight, Mary."

"Mhmm…"

* * *

Edward lifted his hand to his eyes with a groan. The bright African sun strained to reach his eyes through the narrow gaps between his fingers. The dull throbbing within his skull protested against the light, and the tossing of the ship did little to ease the situation. The warmth on his bare chest was welcome, though. He wrapped his hands more firmly around the spokes of the wheel to steady himself.

The captain was far better off than most of his crew. Some of the men were nursing their hangovers with more rum. Others vomited unabashedly over the edge of the deck.

A door was opened below the helm where Edward stood and was then slammed shut a moment later. Mary appeared in his field of view over the wheel looking groggy and exhausted. She stopped the kitchen boy who was running around the deck handing out biscuits to the sailors on duty and then joined him at the helm.

"Ahoy, Kidd!" he greeted her as she climbed the steps, making a point to shout. He accented the words with a smirk.

"Up your arse, Kenway," she grumbled around a mouthful of her breakfast, cheery like the sunrise as usual. Sinking to the ground at his right and leaning her head against the railing with her eyes closed, she mumbled, "That'll be the last I'm drinking until Roberts' blood has dried in his veins."

"Aye," Edward muttered in agreement. "We need to stay on point. He might hear of us asking after his galleon and seek to strike first. It won't do to be passed out in the hold should that happen."

Mary nodded. "I know from experience that that wouldn't end favorably for the _Jack_."

He looked to the ground, suddenly regretting mentioning it. The image of Anne bleeding out from the bullet hole in her stomach – full and round with the budding life of her child who, too, was fading from the world – was brought back to the front of his mind with a fresh and demanding clarity. Rackham had failed both her and Mary, as well as their babes, that night that they were all arrested. Edward had sworn to himself the day he'd taken his friend on as his quartermaster that he would never forsake her the same way. "Of course you do. Forgive me for bringing it up." And, though he didn't say it, he really was seeking her forgiveness. For not being there. When everyone else had failed her, he had gone and done so, too.

Mary didn't respond, only studying the lattice patterning of the scars on her hands.

Pushing those depressing thoughts from his mind, he pulled a telescope out of his coat and turned it over in his hands. "How's your head?"

"Pounding," she complained. "But I'm well enough to scout, if that's what you're really asking." Downing the last of her biscuit, she pulled herself to her feet.

He handed over the instrument. "Call out if you see something."

"Aye, you don't have to tell me." She tucked the scope into her pocket and left him standing at the helm. Hauling herself up the underside of the ratlines to get a better vantage point higher on the mast, she soon disappeared from sight into the crow's nest.

They sailed that way for some time, until high noon had passed and the sun was closer to the horizon than it wasn't. Mary came down from the upper reaches of the mast when she got hungry and Edward joined her in the mess hall. Their reprieve was short-lived, for business' sake, and soon they were back at their posts. They swapped places for a time, but being limited in her range of sight made Mary impatient while she was so close to her target, so they traded back after only an hour.

It was very early evening when her call came.

"Edward!" Mary shouted. "You'll want to see this!"

That got his attention. She never called him by his given name aboard the _Jackdaw_ , not unless they were alone. In the presence of the crew, it was always 'Kenway' or 'Captain', though rarely the latter.

He looked up the mast to see her leaping forward off her platform and catching a hook to control her descent. She hit the deck hard, but barely took a breath to catch herself before running to join Edward at the helm. Without another word, she passed him the telescope.

The sight that lay through its lens could not have been more welcome. "Príncipe," he breathed, turning to Mary with an eager smile.

She shook her head. "Aye, but look to the west."

Confused, he raised the spyglass to his eye once more. She guided the end more to their right with a finger.

Smoke rose slowly from the battered ruins of a sinking frigate on the horizon.

Understanding, and with a hopeful leap in his chest, he passed the scope back to Mary and pulled his brig hard to southwest. "Full sail!" he called out to the crewmen. "Full sail! She'll take it!"

The men jumped right to it and canvas dropped into the wind, billowing up in seconds. Sooner than he could have hoped, they were on top of the wreck.

"This is a mess…" Mary muttered, her eyes scanning the debris. Scattered throughout the burning planks and barrels were masses of men floating face-down in the water.

"Aye," Edward agreed. "That's just Roberts' style."

The set of her mouth was grim as she made her way down to the main deck and began shouting orders. "Scan the wreck, men! Find survivors and pull them out of the drink. The captain and I will want a word with 'em. I trust I don't have to remind you that, if you see loot, you take it!"

Edward rested his elbows on the railing at the edge of his ship's hull and stared out broodingly over the water. This was one of Roberts' marks, he thought. It had to be, brutal slaughter as it was. The bodies littering the calm waves were innumerable. None but the fiercest and most self-serving of pirates would commit such an unprovoked act of destruction. Even common rogues had _some_ semblance of respect for the sanctity of life. Or perhaps that was simply his new alignment with the Assassin Order speaking for him…

"Kenway! Here's one still kicking!" Mary's beckoning pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked over, she was helping some of the men pull a ragged and sputtering sailor on board.

"Who did this?" Edward asked, kneeling beside the wounded Englishman.

"It were a large vessel," the sailor rasped, coughing up a small bit of salt water that dribbled from his cracked and bleeding lips. "The _Royal Fortune_."

"Roberts," Mary muttered, her eyes catching Edward's. Her expression was wisely one of apprehension.

"Offered no quarter," the refugee continued. "Didn't say nothing."

His jaw clenched, Edward beckoned to one of his crew members. "Massey, take this man to the sick bay to get this cut on his arm patched up. And see to it that he's fed." He straightened and looked the wounded sailor over. "You're with us now, whether you like it or not, though you're welcome to jump back in the waves and wait for Davy Jones to fetch you, if you'd prefer. Should you choose life, you'll be free to find a job on another ship when we dock at the next port, or stay on with the free men of the _Jackdaw_ and live as a gentleman of fortune among our ranks. The decision is yours, but you may only make it once."

The man nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

Edward turned, stopping Abbott, one of his ranking officers, as he passed by. He made quick instructions for him to take the helm and steer them toward Príncipe, then made his way back to his quarters without speaking to another man.

* * *

Standing before his open wardrobe, Edward ran his fingers over the many layers and sets of various cloths and fabrics before they rested upon those that he sought: blue and white, traditional, but modified to emit the aura of his own personal style. He pulled it out from the rest and slipped it on before moving in front of the mirror to fasten the belts and other ornaments.

The hinges on the door creaked, followed by a familiar set of footsteps. He glanced over at Mary to see her leaning against the navigation desk with her arms crossed.

"Suiting up for battle, are you?" she asked, nodding at his attire. "It's been a good week or two since last you wore those."

Edward frowned as he fastened his holsters across his chest. "I was wearing these same robes when Roberts and I first met in Havana. I was posing as Duncan Walpole then, of course. A Templar. And I knew him only as the man who could guide me to my greatest score, set me for life." He touched the Assassin insignia carved into his hidden blades and looked over his reflection. "But this uniform is no longer just a costume. It has become a part of who I am now. I'm an Assassin. And he is my next target. I think it's only fitting that he see that in his final hour."

Mary, with a hand in her hair, strode forward to stand behind him. Her capable, calloused fingers moved to the nape of his neck and Edward felt her fiddling with the string there before sliding something onto either end of the shell and bone necklace that he always wore. When she let it fall back into place, he saw that she had added a pair of black beads, the same ones that were wound into the locks that strayed from her red hair wrap. His eyes met hers in the mirror.

"Remember that you don't fight alone anymore." Her tone was level, soft, and she slowly moved her hand around his body to gently grip his shoulder. "Every one of your brothers and sisters will gladly fight by your side to the last breath. It's one of the many virtues of our Order."

Edward covered her hand with his own. "Is that what you are, then? My sister?"

She smiled a small bit. "There are some ties that are stronger even than those between family." Slipping away from him, Mary turned and headed back toward the door. "We're close to the docks now. Let's get to shore so we can kill this bastard and go home."

Edward smirked knowingly, turning to watch her leave. "Your words sing the hymns of bitterness, Mary. Does the African air not agree with you? Or is it, perhaps, something more to do with your last meeting with our friend on old Prins' plantation?"

Mary sighed to the floorboards with a small, resigned smile. Guilty as charged. He knew she was still sour about Roberts getting one over on her in Kingston. "This is about more than simple pride, Edward. To be a demon on the sea is one thing, but 'our friend' the Sage takes after the heart of the devil himself. He's far too powerful with all the knowledge that he holds in his head to be so wild and erratic as he is. We'll all be safer with him gone." With a nod, she exited, and Kenway followed after a last confirming glance in the mirror.

* * *

Edward pushed his head above the water's surface, trying to gasp for air as quietly as possible. He'd been under for so long, trying to remain undetected, that the edges of his vision had started to cloud over with red.

Mary pedaled steadily against the gentle waves and reached out to grip the hull of the ship beside him. The shadow of the Spanish frigate in the harbor provided welcome cover for the pair.

"I don't like the look of this, Edward," she muttered, combing her wet locks out of her eyes with her free hand. "His galleon's not in the port."

"He _is_ here," he insisted. "I can sense it, somehow."

"I don't doubt that he is, but he's on the run from two of the most powerful nations in the world. He's brighter than to let the Spanish or British corner him. He'll have an escape planned."

Edward frowned. That was a fair point, and one he hadn't yet accounted for. "Aye, I'll wager you're right. Of course you are." He glanced around, checking to make sure the coast was clear. "We'll just have to take him by surprise, then." Pulling on his hood, he dove back beneath the low waves and continued to shore, careful not to kick Mary in the face as he knew she would be right on his tail.

He and Mary crawled along the edge of the beach, ducking behind several solitary rocks and boulders before coming to rest in a large patch of short bushes beside a building at the edge of the fort town.

Once they had a moment to catch their breaths and survey their surroundings, it became apparent that surprise may not have been a viable option. Just a bit back from the docks lay a massive encampment of Roberts' men. Patrols were stationed on all paths, and an extra horde of them guarded the path uphill to the actual fort. It was clear to Edward that they, or some other of the pirate lord's enemies, were expected.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mary lift her gun and take aim.

Realizing what she was about to do, he gripped the barrel of the pistol and ripped it from her hand. "I said to stay low!" he hissed. "What sort of trick are you trying to pull off?"

She narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated. He knew how she despised him telling her off. It wasn't an unfounded peeve, however, as he was usually the one in the wrong. As he was this time. "Keep your trousers tied! We're not getting up there unnoticed," she bit back. "Might as well spook Roberts a bit while we're at it. If you want to go to pains of sneaking about, you're welcome to it, but I'm doing it my way. Feel free to join in if it suits you." Turning away, she lifted her other gun.

Growling under his breath, he put his hand on her arm, forcing her to lower her weapon. "Fine. Let me do it, though. I'm the better shot." This was true. They didn't have to debate it.

Mary scoffed, but there was an edge of humor to it that let him breathe easy. He wouldn't have to sleep with an eye open that night. after all "Not when you're pissed, you're not."

That made him smile. She was right. Give him a few drinks he couldn't shoot his own nose off if he tried. "Good job I'm sober then, eh?" Edward handed back her pistol before drawing one of his own and firing at a formidable stack of powder barrels. A pair of guards standing close by were knocked to the ground by the blast. They didn't get back up.

Guards poured out of the woodwork, drawn by the commotion. When they saw the bodies, a few men who looked like they were in charge began shouting out orders to search for the intruder. Roberts' crew fanned out to scan the bushes.

Engaging their blades, the two Assassins pushed outward from their hiding place in opposite directions, diving into patches of foliage and pulling their enemies in with them. A few were cut down in the street while everyone else had their backs turned then quickly pulled behind crates and buildings where the patrols wouldn't stumble across them.

With the first group out of the way, Mary led them up the hill at a crouched sprint. Taking aim herself this time, she set off another set of barrels as they ran, effectively dispatching the glut of buccaneers blocking their path. Edward cleaned up the strays and then they slipped behind the walls of the fort, ducking into another bush.

It was clear that they had gotten Roberts' attention. "Why, who chases me, eh?" The Sage's voice rang out over the encampment from higher still above them, "Is it a specter come to spook me? Or the gaunt remains of a man I sent to hell?"

"Oh, it was hell, to be sure," Edward muttered. His blood began to boil in his veins. Suddenly filled with an impatient need to feel Roberts' weight settling onto his blade, he drew his swords and stepped out into the open. A pair of brutish-looking guards with axes spotted him right off and called to a nearby patrol. Weapons were pulled, but the young captain just rolled his shoulders menacingly and stared them all down, inviting a fight.

"Edward!" Mary hissed from behind him, chastising. He smiled warmly at the exasperation in her voice as his opponents took their first steps toward him. A gunshot sounded some few feet back and another explosion cleared out the advancing patrol. The brutes, seemingly undaunted, drew closer. Kenway felt his companion come to stand at his left shoulder.

They each took a guard and readied to attack or defend. Mary's made the first move, swinging his axe down at her skull like a great meat cleaver. She rolled away seamlessly around the side, forcing the two hulking men back-to-back. This move made it more difficult to attack one without the other stepping in to defend, but it limited their range of motion, among other things. Edward knew this move of hers well, and so pressed his own foe backward, tightening the circle. He met the brute blow-for-blow and waited for Mary to make her move.

Her move came when after her opponent made a particularly heavy and aggressive swing with his axe. When the weapon came down, she caught it deftly with the flat of her blade and used the momentum against the man to send him sprawling on all fours. With his line of defense broken, it was all too easy for Mary to step forward and slip her hidden blade between the ribs of Edward's adversary and then turn to dispatch her own with a bullet to the skull.

Kenway felt a surge of pride for his friend as he watched her holster her pistol, appreciating how clever she was to utilize her foe's false sense of security in their ally against them. It made him endlessly glad that they were on the same side. She scared him enough when she only _thought_ about killing him. He couldn't imagine how quickly he'd kick off if she actually decided to carry through, but then he looked at the brutes – slain at her feet, their blood pooling around the soles of her shoes – and realized he didn't have to.

In the next moment, though, Mary shoved her engaged wristblade under his nose, and all affectionate thoughts fled his mind. "Stop making messes. I get tired of mopping up." Her eyes narrowed.

He sheathed his swords and sighed. "I'd apologize if I believed it wouldn't happen again."

After pulling ammo and coins off the guards, they climbed some scaffolding to find a grouping of tents propped up around a fire. Two more men stood by the flame, talking casually of inconsequential things. They were dispatched of without a fight.

Edward stooped over the body of the sailor he'd cut down, about to drag it off into the tents where it wouldn't be seen, but then a familiar voice reached his ears. He lifted his head to glance around for the source and his eyes fell on his target, the bastard bilge-rat Roberts himself. Through the section of the wall that the path passed through, Kenway could see him ordering two of his crewmembers around, instructing them to guard the way to the cliff.

 _The cliff!_ Edward smirked. They had him cornered. He glanced over to Mary, who was busy managing her own victim's corpse. Her back was turned. Eager, he hooked an arm around her waist and covered her mouth with his hand, pulling her into the nearest tent and out of Roberts' line of sight. Her initial reaction was to tense up and fight. She managed to throw her arms behind her and grab the hair at the nape of his neck by the roots before she realized it was only him, not an enemy.

Relaxing, she twisted around and pulled his palm off her lips, raising her eyebrows expectantly in a mute question. He responded by motioning for her to look outside to the north. Obliging, she rolled out of his arms and flattened herself to the ground, crawling forward to peek under the bottom of the tent canvas. When she turned back around, her eyes were wide with understanding.

Edward shifted toward one of the open ends of the tent. "I'll take left," he mouthed. Mary nodded and pulled herself into a crouch before ducking out the other end.

He slipped from inside the one tent to hide behind the one next to it. A quick glance told him that Roberts' men were still in position. Using bushes and crates as cover, he swung around to the left side of the wall and pressed his body against the wooden poles that formed it. He glanced over to see that Mary was already in place.

On her signal, the pair of them twisted around the corner and knifed the guards. They stood alongside each other, shoulder to shoulder, as their marks crumpled to the ground.

Roberts faced them some thirty paces away. He stood still for a moment. Then he flashed him the smile of a man spawned straight from the devil's own loins before turning on his heel and pitching himself over the edge of the cliff.

"Roberts!" Edward cried, rage swelling up inside his chest. He and Mary dashed forward, and he dearly hoped to see his betrayer's body broken on a colorful array of sea-honed rocks a few hundred feet below.

As they ran, a great mast became visible over the crest of the hill. The _Royal Fortune_. The Sage was escaping on his galleon.

"No! Damn it!" Edward shouted at the stern of the ship. "I'll send you to down to the pit to get fucked up the arse by hellhounds if it's that last thing I do in this life, you welcher! You hear me?"

Mary jabbed him hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Quit your howling, man. We've got to go!" She ran forward, off onto the trunk of a dying tree that leaned out over the water.

He then realized what she was talking about. Their own brig was pulling up under them in pursuit of the enemy Man 'o War. The crew must have grown wise to its scheme and sought the ship out on their own.

He let out an elated, relieved laugh. "Oh, good on you, _Jack_!" he called out. His men spotted him and Mary on the cliff then and cheered, angling closer to the rocks so that they could more easily reach the ship.

Edward jumped forward after Mary, climbing out over the abyss. The pair of them dove together, slicing through the warm waters. The impact stung on his skin like being slapped with the flat of a blade.

They pulled themselves on deck as soon as the _Jackdaw_ 's shadow drew long over their heads. The crew got straight to work.

"Come on now! Captain's aboard!" Mary began shouting at the men the moment her feet left the water and continued as they sprinted to the helm to claim the wheel from Bell, an able young helmsmen. "Man all canvas! Let's move!"

The _Royal Fortune_ grew visibly nervous once Edward stood at command of his vessel. With a loud booming, it fired at the cliffs it was passing between. Huge masses of stone fell into the water, effectively cutting off the _Jackdaw's_ pursuit.

Mary swore and shoved Edward out of the way, turning the bough of the ship hard to the right. She didn't bother shouting at him to find another path, simply doing it herself instead. Instead of being angered by this disregard for his authority the way most captains would have been, Edward was grateful that she took the initiative instead of waiting around for his approval and action, thus losing valuable time. Besides, it wasn't exactly the first time she'd done it.

Leaving her to keep them from grazing the surrounding sandbars, he went down to the gun deck where the crew were readying the cannons. "Give 'em a taste of the chasers, boys! Soon as you see your target, blow them to hell!" he called down the stairs into the hull to the sailors manning the front guns.

They came around the bend without incident, but as soon as they drew within range of the hostile ship, they heard the rolling thunder of mortars.

"Steer clear of that, Kidd!" Edward shouted back up to the helm, though Mary was already angling away. "Brace!" he ordered the crew, gripping the ratlines to steady himself as the cannonballs came showering down around them. A few of them hit, but did little more than nick the woodwork. Most landed in the water, sending sea spray flying into the faces of the _Jackdaw's_ crew. Straightening himself, Kenway stalked toward the bow. "Rain our mortar fire on that old fussock! See how she likes it!"

Every one of their own mortar shot struck the the _Royal Fortune_ spot on. Edward said a silent prayer of thanks for the lack of maneuverability that Men 'o War displayed. They were powerful, but they were slow, much like the brutes that he and Mary had fought earlier. And, like, those brutes, they were easily defeated with a little bit of strategy.

"Edward!" Mary called from her place at the helm. Her voice was as irritated as it was cautionary. "There's crosstrees on the horizon!"

"Flying British colors!" Massey announced from the crow's nest.

The captain turned to look. The tops of several sets of masts loomed in the fog of the night as the _Royal Fortune_ passed into open water. The flags of the Spanish navy were present as well. The Assassins weren't the only one's hunting the Sage that day. He swore under his breath. They couldn't afford to lose that crystal skull to another ship. The nations of the world couldn't afford it.

He ran up to the helm and gripped Mary's shoulder with urgency. "There's Spanish ships there, too, Kidd. This'll be a mess if we don't hurry."

She frowned and passed him the wheel, well aware that he preferred to pilot his own ship when they got down to the wire this way. "Hit her with the mortars again, lads, and chase it down with chain shot!" she howled.

As their own cannon fire pelted Roberts' ship, the British launched their own attack. A man 'o war pulled up alongside the _Royal Fortune_ from the east and bombarded its hull with two rounds from its 40-and-some broadsides before dropping back to avoid tangling with the Spanish, who had shifted in from the west. Two of King Phillip's frigates took advantage of the opening and surged forward, maneuvering until Roberts was trapped between them before unloading their guns on him from both sides.

Edward hissed through his teeth. "This is getting out of hand fast." He glanced at Mary who was gripping the railing to steady herself against the rising waves as they sailed into a storm. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were set in a small frown in the way that told him she was strategizing. "I'm open to suggestions if you have any." The loud pop of a swivel cannon sounded to his left as his men fired at weak points in their enemy's hull. "Aye, take 'em down, lads!" he shouted encouragingly to the crew.

Mary tilted her head. "I might have one. We've got to close to do this, else another ship'll take our prize before we can get to it." They cut through the waves past a Spanish vessel in flames. Sailors floated in the water, some screaming, some deathly silent. The _Jackdaw_ 's boys threw out ropes to pull in who they could.

"So what are you thinking?" Edward asked. "Ram him? Or empty the heavy shot on his head?"

"Both," she said. "Hit him at an angle and give him the broadsides and we slide past. If we time it right, we could catch them with the grappling hooks and board before they can fire back."

"Sounds like a plan by my ears," he nodded. "Call it out."

Mary shouted out orders and the sails were let out entirely to catch the wild winds of the storm. It was a risky move, but the added speed would make for a devastating blow when they collided with the _Royal Fortune_. The wind pulled at Edward's hair like the fingers of a lover as they dashed over waves toward their target, and Edward caught his quartermaster smiling as easily as if she were a child sprinting through a meadow. He knew how she did love this, the thrill of power and danger that came with battles and the sea. She was never more in her element than when she was facing the lethal end of a blade or gun, ready to outsmart her opponent. He felt himself smiling in response.

As they drew closer to Roberts, dodging Spanish and British attacks alike, Mary gripped his shoulder lightly. He turned to see another plotting expression on her face.

"You still owe me for those blondes the other night, yeah?" she asked.

He laughed. "Were they blonde? I can't recall."

She narrowed her eyes, but smirked. "Either way, I'm ready to collect."

Edward grinned. "What would you have me do?"

"Engage Roberts, keep him busy. But _don't_ kill him. Not until I give you the word."

"And if I do this, we'll call it even?"

"Aye, just-"

"Captain!" Mary was interrupted by a call from up the mainmast. Massey. "They're preparing to fire, sir!"

Ahead of them, Roberts' vessel had noticed their pursuit and was turning to line itself up perpendicularly to the _Jackdaw_. It was abandoning its escape attempt and was going to fight them instead, starting with the broadsides.

"Hold true, lads!" Mary ordered. "We're running them down."

Cannons boomed and round shot arced through the air at their prow.

"Brace!" Edward cried, pulling Mary down by the waist and ducking behind the wheel.

Metal pelted the deck. The smallest of their sails ripped near the base. One of their crewmen was knocked into the sea with a surprised scream, which Edward would have found almost darkly comical if Mary hadn't cried out in pain.

"Kidd!" he gasped as she twisted out of his arms and onto her back. Her face was pinched with pain.

"I'm all right," she spat, grasping at the jagged bit of shrapnel lodged in the fabric of her clothing. Blood pooled lightly where she pulled it out, staining the bit of her blouse that Edward could see through the tear in her coat. "It's only a flesh wound. I'm fine to fight."

Edward almost argued, but in the next moment, the _Jackdaw_ 's ram connected with the hull of the _Royal Fortune_. Mary rolled to her knees and grabbed the wheel, pulling the brig hard to the right. "Fire at will!" she belted, straining to be heard over the clamor. "Give 'em everything we've got!"

He shrugged off his worry as the air filled with the thunder of cannons. About half a minute and three volleys later, a deafening crack sounded over the water as one of Roberts' masts snapped at the base and tumbled into the drink. The cheers from the deck of the _Jack_ were equally as deafening. Edward and Mary gripped each other's arms, their free fists thrown in the air with a war cry. They were coming for Roberts and damn it if they weren't going to let him know.

Abbott ran up to the space between the stairs that lead to the helm. "Shall we sink his ship, Captain?" he asked, almost giddy with the thrill of victory and eager to continue. "We've a better than even chance."

"No!" Edward called down to him, shaking his head. "There's a device with him that needs taking! We'll have to board her oursel-" He glanced to his side to check with Mary, but she wasn't at her post. She wasn't anywhere on deck, far as he could sense. "Fucking hell, Kidd," he hissed under his breath. She had better know if what she was trying would work, particularly with her arm wounded as it was. There would be words exchanged when this was over, rather violent ones. It made him nervous and unsettled when she acted on her own that way, which she was well aware of. "Just reel her in, Abbott!" he grunted, but the crew was already on it, tossing grappling hooks over the man 'o war's rails and into its gun ports to pull the two ships together.

"Man the guns!" he heard Roberts shout from the stern of his galleon. "There's more fodder for you coming!"

Edward's upper lip lifted in an angry sneer. He sounded awfully cocky for a man with numbered breaths. Ignoring his swivel guns for fear of accidentally hitting Mary, wherever she was, Edward pulled his hood on and sprinted toward the edge of his brig. He flung himself over the side and caught onto the _Royal Fortune_ 's hull. Quickly, he crawled along the gun ports until he could pull himself up onto the helm.

The Sage was hacking away at one of the younger boys on Kenway's crew. Enraged further by the sight, Edward pulled out a pistol and fired, intentionally piercing a hole through Robert's grandiose cap. It was exceedingly difficult for him to remember Mary's instructions to leave him alive for the time being.

Roberts pushed the boy to the ground and kicked him in the stomach before turning to face the Assassin, posing with one foot forward and his arms out to the side, almost inviting a bullet to the heart. "By Jove, Edward Kenway! How can I not be impressed by the attention you've paid me?" He changed his posture to a fighting stance, beckoning with his sword. "May the best of we two sing praises of the second."

Shouting wordlessly with rage, Edward lunged forward, throwing one blade out in a wide arc.

Just as their steel clashed, however, Roberts dropped his sword and gasped, his eyes and mouth wide. Blood trickled down his neck from where a metal hook had run him through. Surprised, Kenway stepped back and the Sage disappeared, pulled up into the air. In his place, a figure dropped to the ground and slammed the other end of the rope into the floorboards.

"You'd think I'm not even here, the way he goes on," Mary remarked, looking up at the Sage as he writhed in the air, grasping at his throat in pain and confusion. She rolled her arm with a wince. Pulling up Roberts must have put pain to her injury, he later observed.

Instinctively, Edward swung his sword down on the newcomer, but she stood and caught the blow on her wristblade, twisting its momentum in a smooth arc to point at the ground. She caught his gaze with a level stare, used to his reflexive attacks by that point. "Cut him down before he can't talk." She ordered, stepping away.

Mind reeling, he swung at the rope suspending his dying target and Roberts' body crumpled to the ground. Around them, the men of the _Jackdaw_ were forcing the enemy crew to their knees. The fight was won.

Mary kneeled at the Sage's side as he gasped for air around the blood that was welling in his throat and trickling from his lips. "I think you owe us some answers, mate," she muttered.

There was a delay in Roberts' response before recognition spread across his face. Despite his wounds, he smiled. "Ah, the woman Assassin from Kingston. Brought her along for the ride, did you Kenway?" His eyes scanned Mary's disguise. "Funny thing. I remembered you prettier."

She narrowed her eyes, though her lips tugged into a sad smile at the corners. "You're awfully cavalier for a dying man."

He chuckled and gagged uncomfortably against the pain that the action produced in his throat. "Aye. A merry life and a short one, as promised. How well I know myself…" He turned away from Mary to look at her captain. "And what of you, Edward? Have you found the peace that you seek?"

Edward smiled softly and cast his gaze down. Peace had never been what he was after, not a day in his life. Not even the great Captain Kenway was quite that ambitious. No, he'd always sought after gold, power, influence. Or he had at one point. When he looked at Mary, though, and remembered the vast, dark nothingness that had come with the idea of her death… All he really wanted anymore was to never feel that again.

But then she looked at him, and it occurred to him that, no, that wasn't entirely true.

"I'm not aiming so high as that," he responded after a beat. "For what is peace but a confusion between two wars?" Tranquility was complicated and impermanent. The pursuit of it was an errand for fools.

Roberts laughed again, more heartily this time. The pain he felt was evident in his tone, which was growing raspier. "Ah, you're a stoic then! Perhaps I was wrong about you. _She_ might have had some use for you after all..." His words were cloaked in wistfulness.

Mary furrowed her brow, clearly confused. "She? Who are you going on about?"

Edward was equally perplexed. She had told him every tale that she knew existed of the Sages and the Observatory, and he could think of no candidates for the being Roberts spoke of.

Roberts sighed. Edward detected regret in his expression. "Oh… She who lies in wait. I had hoped to find her, to see her again. To open the door of the temple and hear her speak my name once more. Aita…"

Temple? Who was Aita? "Talk sense, man," Kenway hissed, crouching to hear his target's words, now little more than a whisper.

Roberts' eyes drifted. He appeared so tired, so worn, like he had seen too many ages come and go, lived too many lives and died too many deaths. "I was born too soon, like so many others before."

Edward was running out of patience, and he could sense that his target was running out of breaths. There wasn't time for chatter. "Where's the device, Roberts?

Grunting in agony, the man pulled the skull out of his coat. Blood spurted from his neck at the movement, coating the crystalline object with a morbid paint. Kenway reached over to take it from him, but Roberts grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. His expression had become suddenly desperate as the light of life began to flicker out behind his mismatched eyes. "Destroy this body, Edward," he urged. His last breaths came strangled and labored. "The Templars… If they take me…" Though his meaning was clear, he was unable to complete his warning. With a pained sigh, the only known Sage passed from the world.

Edward glanced over at Mary, catching her eye. Her expression was somber, but at peace. She stood and crossed her arms. "He was right. We've got to go."

The thunder of battling ships pulled Captain Kenway out of his own mind and back into the present. A set of British and Spanish warships were duking it out some several hundred meters away, but their fleets were far too close for his comfort. It was only a matter of time before they turned their attention on the only pirate vessel left floating. "Aye, let's move. We can give Roberts a proper send-off when we're safe away from that armada. Rally the men." With a grunt, he slung the corpse over his shoulder, blood still leaking from Roberts' neck wound and staining Edward's shirt. The sensation was warm and sticky and uncomfortable.

Mary nodded and made her way down to the gun deck, shouting at the men as she went. "All right, lads! Gather your affects and get back to the brig! Take what loot you can find, but don't go looking for it. We're on the sour side of time."

* * *

Edward stood chest deep in the warm waves with a flask in either hand, gazing out at the horizon, still dim as a new day dawned. The sunrise was one of the sharpest reminders that he was in unfamiliar waters. He was accustomed to the light coming up over the water to the east, but from where he stood off the western shore of Africa, the color of morning shone from over the tops of the trees, from land. The color of the ocean, still gray in the dim illumination, made him almost physically uncomfortable. It was the closest thing to a yearning for home that he had experienced in many years. He lifted the flask in his left hand to his lips to alleviate his sadness.

Sand crunched between his toes as he waded back to shore, droplets of water dripping from his trousers and bare chest as he neared Mary. She had likewise undressed, though she had left her blouse on. They both wore their blades and weapon belts, just as a precaution. Her hair hung loosely around her face while she leaned over the dingy that had brought them to shore with Roberts' lifeless body. The red wrap that usually tied up her black locks was wrapped securely around her upper arm to staunch the flow of blood where she had been cut in the naval battle.

Edward saw that she had finished dusting the inside of the boat with gunpowder and was strapping magazines to the benches. Roberts' corpse lay in the sand at her feet, wrapped in a cloth doused in lamp oil.

Mary turned her head at the sound of her friend's approaching footsteps, brushing her beads behind her ear. "Ready?" she asked.

He offered her the flask of rum, which she took and knocked back a moment. "Aye," he confirmed. "For the Sage's last rites, the three things he loved most in the world: strong drink, gold, and the sea." He handed her the other flask - the one containing the seawater he's just collected - before producing a single gold coin from his pocket. He held it out for her to hang on to, but she gestured that her hands were full. With a saucy grin, she leaned her head forward, mouth open invitingly, and with a smirk he placed the coin between her teeth. Turning away before he could let his thoughts drift, he carefully lifted Roberts' now rigid form into the powder-stacked dingy and laid him out to rest.

Mary sat on the edge of the boat opposite Edward and tucked a flask on either side of the body. Then she took the gold piece from between her lips and gingerly placed it on top of the cloth, about where his hands were folded over his stomach. "Leave this life for a lasting peace, down among the dead," she muttered before standing

Edward curled his fingers around the lip of the boat and pushed it back into the water, taking it out as far as he could without having to swim. They'd found a nice little cove to do this, one with a large, shallow area for wading that was also well sheltered from the view of ships on the ocean by means of tall, densely foliaged cliffs. When he looked back to shore, he spotted Mary climbing the one to his left as best as she could without pulling too much on her injured arm. Giving the Sage one final, heaving push out to sea, he slogged through the water back to land and hurried to join her.

He found her leaning against a palm tree at the top of the slope with her arms crossed, staring out at the horizon. Back in the direction of the West Indies. The light of day was beginning to turn the waves from gray to hazy light blue, but he could sense that she too felt it was wrong. There was something comforting about the orange-pink morning waters that filled the bay at Great Inagua at dawn (something that they both loved) and this was not that. They yearned for the same place, the same semblance of home.

From where they stood, the _Jackdaw_ 's flag – now flying a symbol of Edward's own design, a skull encircled by the Assassin insignia – could be seen over the tree tops, patrolling the area so their sepulture for Roberts would not be 'interrupted'. Below them, the powder-laden boat bobbed in the water, eerily peaceful.

"There's something about this, for me, that seems less final than the rest of my kills," Edward muttered after a long moment.

"Mmm? How so?" Mary asked without moving her gaze.

"I'm not precisely sure. It's as if we had some score left unsettled, though I know that there isn't. Whether he still owes me or I him, I'm unsure."

She turned to face him, her gaze scanning his bare torso while her fingers settled on his abdomen along the line of a short, ragged scar above his pelvis, sending a shiver up his spine. He looked away almost in shame. The blemish marked where he'd been impaled trying to escape the observatory after Roberts' betrayal, a wound that hadn't properly healed until well after his time in that stinking, unclean prison. It still infuriated him to think about it, as if he had been branded by all his failings in the previous years related to the folly that the Observatory had turned out to be. So many things might have been different if he'd never gained that injury, if he had been able to fight Roberts and his men, prevent his imprisonment. Anne might still be breathing, for one thing.

She lifted her other hand to cup his neck and pushed his chin straight ahead with her thumb, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Oi, hear me, Kenway. You owe that man nothing, all right? Not then. Not now. You each played a part in the others' life, aye, and maybe it was a large one, but that's done now." She pulled a pistol out of her belt and folded his hand around the grip. "So finish it."

Edward huffed, trying to breathe out the weight in his chest. He looked from the gun and back up to Mary, and the level intensity that he saw there knocked him right out of his slump. Always the guiding voice, she was, and always driving him in the right direction with her passion.

He turned to look at the boat far below them in the cove, still bouncing in the water that glittered in the sharp angle of the morning light. With a humorless smirk, he took aim and pulled the trigger.

The boat broke into countless pieces, some soaring into the air in a fireball. Bits of wood and cloth burned on the waves, the flames steadfastly undaunted by the spray of water created by the explosion. Blood and chunks of flesh bobbed alongside the remains of the dingy, but nothing that wouldn't burn up or get eaten by marine life.

It was certainly a spectacle, and it put the Sage's blood and body out of reach of the Templars without question. Roberts would have been satisfied, Edward thought.

"You're free of any debt to him now, if there was one" Mary said with an assured nod at the wreckage. "You're free to do as you please, unhindered."

He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him as they watched the flames dance across the water. " Then I think I'd like to go home."


	5. Still

**Song:** _Still_ \- Daughter

Edward locked the cabin doors behind him and turned to face the room. A groan escaped him. "Mary, we've talked about this," he grumbled and stalked over to his bed. With one hand he scooped up a small, gray tabby kitten off his pillow and deposited it on his quartermaster's cot at her feet. "Not on my bed," he said, reprimanding the animal as much as his friend. The tiny scrap of fur stumbled over the sheets toward Mary, glancing up at Edward with an indignant mew.

Mary pulled the kitten onto her stomach and it affectionately headbutted the book she was reading. "Aye, and just yesterday it was 'not in our cabin'. You're slipping already. May as well just give in." She gave him an amused smile, her eyes pinching at the corners in the way that he loved.

Edward resisted the temptation to roll his eyes as he appropriated the space at the foot of her cot. The _Jackdaw_ had picked up something of a furious rat infestation on the return trip from Africa, and their long-suffering cook had chewed his ear off about it almost hourly during the weeks back across the Atlantic. When they first made port back in the Caribbean, Mary had ventured into the village and bought two kittens off a young woman to manage the problem. The problem of Edward whining about the cook's nagging, that was. "Aye, well I've seen enough fights to know a losing battle when one presents itself. Though that by no measure means I can't retain some scrap of dignity." A wisp of fur on Mary's trousers caught his eye, clinging to the fabric just above her knee. His hand moved automatically to brush it off for her, though his fingers quickly forgot their task, lingering there well after dusting away the tuft. "It seems to me we could have done just as well with a dog," he stated after a distracted moment.

"Your brig ain't large enough for a dog," Mary countered. "Unless you're all right with some hulking mutt getting underfoot while the men are tying down the lines in middle of a maelstrom, knocking some poor git into the drink…"

That made Edward laugh. "You make a fair point." He laid back across the width of Mary's cot so his head was nearly hanging off the other side. She stretched her legs out, crossing the ankles of her bare feet over his chest. He smiled up at the wooden boards that separated them from the heavy footsteps of the men at the helm.

"Something funny?" she asked.

He twisted his neck to look at her. Her eyes were barely visible over the top of her book. "I was just reminded of the old hound we had on the farm back in Bristol. I would have been no older than thirteen when he died. He was this gruff, shaggy beast with a coat like smoke and an irritable disposition. Always getting in the way of the workers. Father hated him, but he put up with hell out me and the rest of the children, even if he got a little rough from time to time." He smiled fondly at the memory.

Mary gently shut her book and looked down at him, a soft, amused smile touching the corners of her mouth. "Sounds a bit like Thatch, don't you think?"

Edward grinned broadly. "Aye, a bit like Thatch, indeed. That old scratch was a bit of a dog, himself." He laughed. The sound was washed through with nostalgia. "You know, that's not a bad name for a hound. Thatch. If ever I live to settle back in London, I think I'll get myself one like we had on the farm, and that's what I'll call him. Spent my youth getting barked at by a Thatch. Why should the moonlight of my life be any different?"

An unusually tender expression settled across Mary's face, tempered by a spark of humor in her sharp, brown eyes. "I think he'd be honored, in an odd way."

He laughed again. "I think you'd be right about that."

There was a long moment of amicable silence broken only by the gentle purring of the tabby kitten before Mary spoke again.

"Do you think about it often? Sailing home… to your wife?"

Edward let out a huff of air, suddenly feeling very lost. What a loaded question that was. "In truth? I do. But I have things I need to do, a real purpose and direction for the first time in my life. That's what she wanted from me, I'm sure. Or rather, I hope. But I'm not sure I can go back now. I'm not sure that's home any more…" He took a thoughtful pause to consider his words, thankful that Mary remained silent as she processed his jumbled thoughts. "If I were a wise man, I would have gone back to England after the war. But I was selfish. England wasn't what I wanted. Caroline was, but not the way we were. I wanted a better life, the life I have now, as a matter of fact. But now that I stand at the helm of a ship all my own, with riches spilling from the hold and a foreboding reputation that need only be conveyed through the flag I fly… I realize too late that this is not a dream we shared. And I think a lot about what might have been different if I'd known before the things I know now." Things like how desperately lost he was without the fearsome woman who was presently using him as a footstool.

The above deck suddenly erupted in whoops and cheers. The kitten in Mary's lap startled, digging its tiny claws into her side as it sprang from the bet to take cover behind a stack of crates. The quartermaster's curses were interrupted by a pounding on the cabin door.

"Captain! Kidd! Land ho!" a crewman shouted through the wood.

Edward sat up so fast he nearly fell flat on his face. Head spinning like he'd been on a week's bender, he pulled Mary to her feet and out onto the main deck.

"Kenway," she muttered as they took in their surroundings. I can't say I've ever been happier to see your rat-hole of cove."

Great Inagua loomed lush and steady off on the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, and the light cast shadows and halos on the island like heavenly beacons guiding them home. Pride welled within Edward's chest, chased closely by intense longing. He hadn't been back there in some time, not since a few weeks after Mary had joined his crew. He had been in patchy correspondence with the captains in his fleet, and knew the place was in trustworthy hands, but he ached to be there himself. He wanted to feel the sands of his beaches between his bare toes, wrap himself in the comfort of his four-poster, run his fingertips over the smooth wood of his grand desk.

"What's the state of affairs, Bell?" Kenway called up to the young man just above him at the helm.

"Smooth seas and a strong tailwind, Captain," Bell shouted back with a wide grin on his face. "I'd say Neptune wants us home and off his waters quick as a wink!"

"He ain't the only one, lad!" Edward then turned to a pair of idle men on the deck. "Bring up the crates I purchased when last we made port. I've got a little something for you boys. A reward for the admirable strength and resolve our crew has displayed these past weeks." The men nodded and hurried down into the hull. Their captain smirked fondly when he imagined the delight his boys were in for when they cracked open the chests to find an assortment of ales and spirits fit for the King's court. The lot had cost a pretty penny, put pirates were an easy crowd to please and their needs were easily met (and loyalties easily persuaded) if one had the coin to satiate their thirst. Regardless, the _Jackdaw's_ citizens had earned their rest and repast.

* * *

Edward awoke early the next afternoon passed out on his desk. His head throbbed so loudly as he pulled himself into a somewhat upright angle that he almost couldn't hear himself groan. He swung his legs over the edge of the desk and slid rather ungracefully to the ground, feeling the full weight of his limbs and the boulder that was his head.

The captain emerged into the main room of his manor to find men and women slumped over in nearly every chair at the table. Some were asleep, some were lazily stretched out and mumbling drunkenly wherever was comfortable enough, and some were defiling Edward's sheets as he inferred from the distasteful sounds of skin slapping skin emanating from the general direction of his bedroom.

As he blinked against the pounding in his skull, his Other Eyes slipped in and out of focus as they sometimes did after a night of hard drinking. The sitting room caught his attention, radiating an aura he'd grown oddly dependent on. It came off stronger than any other in sight, as usual, almost more familiar than Edward's own.

Rounding the corner, he found Mary kicked back in an armchair with her ankles crossed over the back of the poor sod passed out on the short table in front of her. She brushed the feathered end of her quill thoughtfully along the length of her jawline as she pondered the pages of the book in her lap. An inkwell balanced precariously on the armrest of her chair.

Edward came up behind her and peered over her shoulder. Some of the marks in the journal were fresh, though he understood little of what he saw on the pages. The words themselves were simple enough, strewn between rough sketches of artifacts and architecture reminiscent of the Observatory's mystic style, but their order and arrangement strung them into thoughts that fell out of the captain's head before he could fully register their meaning. The edge of a letter, bearing handwriting that was not his quartermaster's, peeked out from under the bindings of the journal.

"Is that the same book you were looking over yesterday?" he asked. His voice was soft, so as not to disturb the sleeping men around them.

Mary twisted her neck to meet his eyes, coming out of her reverie, and smirked. "Rejoined the land of the living, have you? Aye, it's the same." She pulled out the letter and showed him the signature. It was a name he'd never read or heard before. "I've been writing back and forth with one of Ah Tabai's associates in the colonies about Precursor objects and the like. He had tons of new notes waiting for me when we got back. I'm collecting them all in this journal, for safekeeping." She yawned and stretched, arching her back and curling her fingers around the empty air above her head.

Kenway sighed, as perplexed as he was intrigued. "Someday you'll have to tell me the all these legends of this First Civilization. I find them fascinating, in a horrific sort of way."

Mary laughed lightly. "I imagine you would, of all people. You're one of the few lucky enough to have seen their relics firsthand." There was the oddest twinge of jealousy in her voice.

"I'm not sure I'd count it as a privilege, exactly…" Edward's stomach clenched at the unpleasant memory of being run through with a broken branch during his escape attempt from the temple. "But if you'd like to see for yourself what you've been studying, I'm sure you'll get your chance. Seems it's going to fall to us to seal away the Observatory, in the end."

She looked back down at her notes with a smile touching the corners of her mouth. "That's what you get for poking your nose where it don't belong, Kenway. I suppose sailing with you had to have some sort of perks, though."

Deciding it wisest not to voice a comeback to that, Edward awkwardly shifted his weight back on his heel, toward the door. "Should I leave you to it then? Or…"

Mary shook her head quickly. "I have down what I need. I'll just lock these in your desk for now, if that's all right." She gathered her things, closing the letter between the pages of the book before fastening the bindings with a belt and locking it.

Edward breathed and smiled. "Of course. And… and then I have a gift for you, if you'll have it."

Mary smirked as she stood. "We're pirates, mate. If something ain't given to us, we take it anyway."

Edward rolled his eyes, affection tugging at his lips. "It'd be fairly difficult to steal what I'd like to give you, but you're welcome to try." He took the journal from his friend, thoroughly enjoying the curious light in her eyes as he led her back to the war room. The Precursor intel was safely locked away under a false bottom in one of his desk drawers before either of them spoke again.

Mary stood in the middle of the room, arms cross expectantly. "So what did you want to show me?" she asked when he turned back toward her.

With no words and a light hand on the small of her back, he led her to the bookcase that opened to the treasury stairs. They pushed it open together and Edward let the way into the darkness of the cave.

The hallway was quickly illuminated by the glow of gold reflecting the dying sunlight streaming through the hole in the ceiling. The pair strode past the impressive racks of pistols and swords and into the main chamber of the tunnel.

Mary exhaled sharply as she took in the vast stores of wealth that Edward had amassed. "Looks like you got what you were after, Kenway," she remarked, her eyebrows lifted with some emotion Edward couldn't identify.

He cast a long glance over his best friend's lean, sturdy form before answering. His eyes came to rest on hers. "Not everything. A younger Edward may have agreed with you, but I feel now that my riches and reputation mean nothing without the men and women I love standing beside me." It had been a lesson hard learned. One that she had taught him, though he didn't believe she knew it.

Mary's mouth twitched, though the rest of her face did not react. She looked away after a moment and moved to examine an old wheel topping one stack of treasure. "I'm sure you'll be hearing back from Caroline one day quite soon."

Edward clenched his fists, a poor externalization of what is insides were doing in that moment. Caroline had been the furthest thing from his mind, but his frustrations bubbled to the surface without restraint at the mention of her name. His efforts to reconnect with his wife were causing him more strife than not. He loved her, he did. She was the first woman he had ever been able to say that about. But was that enough?

Because whenever he looked at Mary, he knew with haunting clarity that Caroline was not the only woman he would ever love.

His wife deserved better than that. Edward Kenway would be damned if he was going to simply give up on his marriage. Not so quietly, not after all those years of fighting to give her a better life.

But then, he could no longer convince himself he had done all this, all these years, for her.

The whole thing was far too much for him to think about on a hangover.

Edward strode over to a small box set aside on a shelf and lifted a key from its velvet-lined interior before turning back to Mary. "She never agreed with my ambition, and the experiences I've gained tell me that perhaps she was right not to. But still, I've made my choices, and the only one still at my side, for all my mistakes, is you, Mary Read." He stepped closer and took her hand, placing the key in her palm and closing their fingers around it together. "I would be sorely remiss if I were to let you get away now without a fight." His words were warmed by a gentle laugh.

Mary's eyes traced a line from their clasped hands to his face. "What's this then?"

"The key to the guest house on the cliffs. It's yours, if you'd like. If you plan to stay here, and I hope you do, I won't have you staying down in the village. I need you closer than that."

She pulled away her hand, to Edward's initial dismay, but instead of rejecting the gesture as he feared she might, she pocketed the key. "I ain't going nowhere anytime soon," she reassured him with a light smile and her signature cocky crossed arms.

Edward chuckled softly and clapped her shoulder. "Then you've made me very happy, as your captain as well as your friend." He dropped his hand, looked her over, and was filled with the most striking sense of incredulity as he did so. "Why have you stayed with me?" he asked suddenly in a murmur. "You've been fit as my finest men for months now, more than capable of charging your own fine vessel. Any day, you could strike out on your own and do just as well as you have here. So why don't you?"

The thought gave him great pain, though he knew his words were true. He wasn't a perfect man or a perfect Assassin. He still had his moments of weakness, and they subsequently had their fights. Now that they were back in the West Indies, she could walk out any day. He could always speak his mind with her while they were at sea, kind words or violent ones, but right there and then he was afraid to open his mouth. She'd always had such a fiery temper. It would be so easy to set her off, to lose her.

A small smirk settled across her lips, but there was something akin to peace or maybe joy lighting her eyes. To Edward's surprise and confusion, she reach out and took his hand in hers. Though he dwarfed her in size, her rough and capable fingers seemed to dominate his. "I'll show you."

She led him through the cave and into the jungle before breaking away into a run. Kenway watched her for a moment before following. Her path took them into the trees and up ravines, winding through various trails until they found themselves sliding down a steep slope to the south beach of the island. Edward was vaguely familiar with the spot, just east from where they first landed the day they took the cove. It was a lesser-known but highly loved drinking spot due to the large boulder that sheltered the beach and bonfire from the winds on stormy days. It had its own little lagoon, as well, for swimming on the more common calm days.

That particular evening was one of the latter. The shoreline was abandoned, as everyone was in town recovering from the homecoming party. The skyline was lit with all sorts of brilliant colors as the sun neared the horizon to the west, though a cliff blocked the view of the sunset from where Edward was standing.

There was a heavy thud at Edward's side and he looked down to see that Mary's gun belt had hit the sand. Her sword, coat, and blouse soon followed in a trail behind her as she strode toward the water's edge. Mildly entranced, Kenway followed suit, shedding his weapons and robes. By the time his toes were within lapping range of the relaxed waves, Mary was waist deep and gazing out across the horizon. Her hair spilled down just past her shoulders, a few inches above her chest bindings, and there was a relaxed confidence to the way she held herself. He knew this woman, better than he once would have thought possible, and he could tell just by her posture how powerful she felt in that moment, immersed in her favorite element, one that she had sacrificed sweat, blood, and almost life to claim, to own. The sea belonged to her, and she belonged to it. The sight made Edward feel limitless.

He joined her, and from where they stood they could see the sun crawling down toward the world's edge.

"This is why I stay," Mary muttered when they stood shoulder to shoulder. "I've spent my whole life fighting to keep hidden, pretending to be something I'm not just to stay in control of my life and have more freedom than the world wanted to give me. I bled in my first war before I'd bled as a woman. I joined the Assassins to help the people who couldn't or wouldn't defend themselves from those who would control them, but even that has always been a game of Cat and Mouse, one way or the other. I've been running, hiding, and fighting ever since I was a child." She turned her head to meet his gaze. "But you. You have this cove, your ship, a crew that respects you, unmatched drive and talent, and quite possibly the _worst_ luck of any man I've ever met." They both laughed, smiles lighting their faces freely. "And you, Edward Kenway, have a chance to take all that and really change the balance of the world. It's taken you a long time, but I finally trust you to handle that responsibility. I stay because I want to watch it happen. I stay because I want to help you _win_ for the rogues and the scoundrels and anyone else who has ever been kicked about by those who hold power and refuse to share it."

Edward took a deep breath and looked around, trying to notice every detail there was to his surroundings. The crunch of broken seashells in the sand beneath his feet, the taste of salt in the air, the tendril of seaweed slowly wrapping itself around his ankle, the way the sunlight refracted off the waves and cast sparkles across everything nearby, the little droplets of water that clung to the bare skin of Mary's muscular stomach and arms, how the light, warm breeze tossed the fronds of the palm trees on the beach.

He wrapped his arms around the waist of the woman at his side and plunged the both of them into the waves.

Mary came up sputtering, her eyes alight with amused rage. Edward swam up next to her, laughing like the devil. "All right," he started while she blinked saltwater out of her eyes. "We'll save the world then, and we'll do it together. But all in due time. I, for one, have been at sea for a _very_ long time, and even reformed heroes need a day off now and again. So what say you and I eat, drink, and enjoy the fair weather and leave the Templar hunt for another day soon?"

Mary narrowed her eyes, but pushed off deeper into the water. "You're a cocky bastard, Kenway. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Twice," he responded with a playful, pondering tone. "I keep a collection of the tongues of men who've mentioned it."

"Good job I ain't a man then," Mary tossed back with a wink and a proud smirk.

 _You most certainly are not…_ "Aye, but I do believe some penance must be paid for such a hurtful comment." He jumped after her, chasing her out to sea as they both laughed like children.


	6. Release

**Song:** _Release_ \- Imagine Dragons

"On your feet, bilge rat!"

The shout jarred Kenway back to conciseness. He spent so much of his time resting those days. There wasn't much else to do but starve, or choke on his dry throat. The sleep was a welcome distraction from his sunburns and bruises as well.

He rolled over to face the guard. Hate burned in his eyes and venom singed his tongue. He didn't like this one. He only liked the one that brought his meals. They were all vile men, the lot of them, but only the one carried survival with him. Hardly enough to satisfy, but enough to keep Edward from withering away, yes.

The guard kicked his cell bars. "Don't play that you didn't hear me, pirate, or I might just forget to bring you in this time. Now, get up. If I have to come in and fetch you, I'll make it right unpleasant."

Edward didn't bother spitting back curses. He'd screamed himself hoarse over the first month, but reality had slowly set in and dampened his fire. He could shout and spit and bite at his keepers until he was cold in his grave, but it still wouldn't free him. He'd grown almost complacent in his captivity. They were far from breaking his resolve, but he had grown less eager to pick fights. He had so little energy, battered and caged. It was best to save what he had in him for when it counted, and oh how he longed for that moment. It always came. Breaking loose with Adé during the sinking of the treasure fleet, that schooner that had so conveniently sailed past the jungle where he had been marooned with Vane, lost from its usual trading route… There was always an escape. He just had to bide his time.

Kenway begrudgingly rolled to his feet. He turned to face the back wall of the cell before sticking his arms between the bars behind his back so the guard could lock a pair of manacles around his wrists. They hung against his skin cold and heavy, a weight he was growing all too familiar with. Every time they were put on he swore to himself he would never again wear a chain once he made his escape. Death would be preferable to this, and he would take no quarter even if given the choice.

The guard unlocked the cell door and led Edward out into the hallway. The captain felt it was unfair that the floors were made of brick and not dirt. At least then he could see the path he was wearing between his cell and the gibbet at the mouth of the port. The torture seemed to Edward as though it were designed specifically for him, or at least sailors like him. So close they were to the lapping of the waves and cries of the water fowl, lightly battered by the wind like the playful touches of a lover, but turned in their cages with their backs to the sea so they could see only the walls of the prison that kept them from the free lives they'd led aboard their ships.

When he stepped outside, Edward couldn't help wincing at the sun's sudden assault. He blinked against his blindness while his eyes adjusted. Time passed differently inside the prison where it was dark all day and all night. The only markers for they days fleeting by were when meals came, if they did. It seemed almost strange to Kenway every time he left those dungeons, to realize that the world moved on at its usual pace outside of his well-trodden path to and from the gibbet. From the position of the obnoxious yellow glare in the sky, it must have been a little while past noon.

He hadn't taken more than ten steps down the path to the water before he was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder. He turned, surprised, to see a pair of guards he didn't recognize as any of his regular keepers.

"New orders from the warden," the one standing off to the side addressed the guard that had fetched Edward from his cell, handing him a small bit of parchment. "We're to take this felon from here."

After looking over the note, the guard handed Kenway over and he was led in a new direction, winding through buildings in a direction he had never been before. He looked toward his new keepers, but neither of them made eye contact, just pulling him along when his feet slowed.

Eventually they rounded a corner and he saw a clearing in the buildings lined with benches, each packed with people who appeared quite riled up. Voices drifted to his ears.

"…hostile manner, attack, engage, and take seven certain fishing boats! Secondly, this court contends-"

A trial. They were taking him to see a trial. If he weren't so hungry he might be curious why.

He was pushed into the courtyard, walking between the two guards and he glanced about, taking in his surroundings. It was so rare that he saw any walls he hadn't memorized every stone of. There were trees. Vines grew over the buildings, some of which were in mild states of disrepair. Storage crates we stacked here and there. There were no easy exits as he had been hoping for. Then his gaze drifted to the judge and the accused.

His gait faltered. Edward felt the flicker of a familiar flame igniting within himself, the one that had boiled his blood for as long as he could remember.

Mary's jaw practically sitting on her boots. She glanced at Anne, who held a similar expression on her face. Clearly neither of them had heard of his imprisonment. When he made eye contact with Mary again he was being shoved forward and into a seat at an empty bench. His guards sat on either side of him.

He searched her eyes, feeling the sadness in them that must reflect in his own. Every few days or so a new prisoner would come into the complex and circulate their news of the outside world. Every few weeks, one would come bearing rumors of Calico Jack, James Kidd, and the barmaid they'd dragged out to sea. Those stories gave him breath, gave him the drive to keep going, knowing his friends were free. The more selfish side of him had hoped they would learn where he was and break him free. But the idea of them, the women especially, in Jamaica, rotting in a cell as he was…

Mary, the look on her face. She turned back to the judge, a cocky smile gracing her lips, as unbothered by the threat of the government as ever. But he knew her well enough to see that his appearance at her trial had shaken her.

"Edward James Kenway. Born of motley parentage in Swansea."

_Fuck me._

Edward turned to look at the group of men that had sat down on the bench behind him while his attention had been elsewhere. He was met by the scarred face of Woodes Rogers, who, until now, had not possessed the slightest inkling of his true identity.

He faced forward again. _Fuck me_. He knew what was coming now.

"Married at eighteen to Miss Caroline Scott, now estranged," Rogers continued.

"She's a beautiful woman, I am told, but not at all well these days." The familiar voice of Grand Master Torres made Kenway's fists clench.

He turned and glared at the old man over his shoulder. Blackmailing a pirate was a desperate maneuver, but he too was a desperate man, and out of options. "If you touch her, you bastards, I'll-" But his words were quickly silenced with a pistol pressed to his back. The Templars clearly wanted him to understand they were in control of the conversation.

"Quite a surprise finding you here, rotting in a Jamaican prison," Torres went on. "We heard rumors that you had taken up with the pirate Roberts."

Rogers twisted the barrel of the pistol into Edward's spine. "If you know the Observatory's location, tell us now, and you'll be out of here in a flash."

Kenway remained silent, jaw clenched. Visibly annoyed but obviously confident in his position, Torres stood and craned over his shoulder. "Roberts can hold these British hounds at bay, for a time." He gestured at the trial, still proceeding in front of them, before turning away. "But this will be your fate if you fail to cooperate."

The judge, looking about as settled as if someone had set loose a rat in his trousers, was squirming in his chair and waving his gavel as he gave the sentencing. "You, Mary Read and Anne Bonny, are to go from hence to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, where you shall be severally hanged by the neck, until you are severally dead, dead, dead!

"Oh rot!" Anne drawled before the man had a chance to finish his words, rolling her eyes and shifting her weight in classic Bonny fashion, not visibly bothered by the ruling.

The judge went on as though she'd not opened her mouth. "May God, in his infinite mercy, be merciful to each of your souls!"

"We're pregnant!" Mary shouted, not a breath between the judge's haughty voice and her own. "Do you all hear that?"

Edward's stomach plummeted straight through his body to the ground. There were gasps and shouts of disbelief through the courtyard. _She's lying to save their skins, surely._ Edward's thoughts echoed the sentiments of the men around him, though there was an odd color of desperation to them that the others did not share.

"What the devil did she say?" The judge shouted demandingly at the court official.

"They plead their bellies, Milord," the man stammered, shocked and unsure.

"Aye! You can't hang a woman quick with child, can ye?" Anne called back, a crooked grin of victory spread across her face.

The judge pounded his gavel against the noise of the courtyard. "Quiet! Quiet!" He waved the little hammer at the women next, both of whom gave him a bored glace as they stood facing forward without fear or shame anywhere in their postures. "If what you claim is true, then your executions will be stayed, but _only_ until your terms are up!"

"Then I'll be up the duff the next time you come knocking!" Anne drawled with all the classlessness of a young woman who had spent most of her life igniting the destructive habits of drunken pirates for a living. The attendees of the trial seemingly considered themselves model citizens, so did not value having their sensibilities offended, and reacted accordingly.

"Remove them!" The judge shouted, feathers ruffled and fearing further disturbance in his court.

Edward was pulled roughly to his feet and led back the way they had come. He twisted in the guard's grip to look at the girls, who were being pushed forward down the same hallway he was. "Mary!" he called out, straining to move closer to her, but guard held him back. They two of them made eye contact and he could see she was feeling exactly as he was. He wanted to fight, to run, but they had no weapons and any attempt at escape would likely get them all killed, babies and Observatory be damned.

* * *

The cold morning air gnawed at Edward's bones. It had been a while since he'd spent time in the gibbet. For some months, Rogers has personally seen to his torture within the walls of the prison, but he never gave in and as time drew on the Templars grew bored of babysitting. The past week or so had been spent in varying forms of manual labor or hanging out in the cage to dry. Usually they put him in the sun, but their tactic had changed that night. He'd been pulled from his cell in the middle of the night and placed under the care of a trio of new guards.

"What's your name, pillock?" one of them shouted up at him. "Kenmore? Conway?"

"It's Walpole, ain't it?" another offered.

"Where'd you get that?" the first asked.

Edward just sighed. They seemed to be keeping themselves busy enough without his injection.

"Well that's the rumor going 'round. As dirty and daft a pirate as ever sailed these West Indies."

Their friend walked over then from where he had been patrolling the pathway. "Well, whatever his name is, you're to make sure he suffers without dying. Orders from the governor. And back to the prisons at sundown." The guard turned away to scout the area once more. The man was green, fresh. He took his job far too seriously with far too much pride, betraying his inexperience.

"And massage his feet if he's aching, shall I?" one of the guards below the gibbet shouted after him.

"Jaysus…" the other grumbled. "A shit detail as ever was."

"Can't they just kill the bastard? Ain't been a good hanging in months since Rackham got his."

That hit Edward in the gut. He'd heard of his comrade's fate when it had happened, but it still stung to think about. The world may be far better off without Calico Jack, but it would be hard to ever return to the Old Avery and not see the git slumped over the in the corner or spilling his rum on whichever whore he was charming. And Anne… Misguided as her affections were, she had loved that man. Now she was carrying his child. What would become of her, should she ever make it out of Kingston? There was little opportunity anywhere for single mothers, and she couldn't sail with a baby.

"Eh, hard to understand how it works." The guards continued. "I've heard it said they scooped up Captain Vane near a year ago, and he's not yet seen the end of a rope."

Also not news to Edward. He's been lead past Charles' cell a time or two. Always grumbling to himself, the mad bastard was.

"I can't fathom it. Some men they stretch for days after capture. Others they sit on."

Edward's senses suddenly lit up like fireworks. Someone was in the bushes. Someone he recognized and was very glad to see.

But the guard was getting too close…

"Hey!" he shouted, rattling the gibbet. "You!"

The three guards spun to look at him. "Keep quiet!" On demanded.

When Edward looked back up, the guard near the bushes had disappeared.

"Oi!" He yelled, shaking the cage again. As soon as the guards turned, a dark figure appeared and knocked them both to the ground with blades in their backs.

Ah Tabai looked up. "Good morning, Captain Kenway. I have a gift for you." He ripped a key off one of the guard's belts and tossed it to Edward. "Do not mistake my purpose here," he continued as the pirate worked on the lock. "I have come for Anne and Mary, and you owe me nothing for this."

Edward dropped from the gibbet with a huff and gave the master assassin a nod of understanding.

"But if you would lend me your aid, I can promise you safe passage from this place." Ah Tabai offered.

Edward gave another nod. He didn't need convincing. There wasn't a force on earth, much less in the West Indies, that could make him leave Jamaica without his friends in tow. "I'll need weapons."

Ah Tabai held out a pair of hidden blades and a blowpipe. "You are comfortable with these, I am told."

Edward took them with a smile. His weapons of choice. Delightful.

Ah Tabai handed him a fistful of darts. "We must hurry."

Edward took off in a different direction than the master, up through the trees. When he reached the walls, he pulled out the blowpipe and slid a berserk dart into the shaft. His raised it to his lips and took aim at a captain leading a patrol between the buildings. With a simple puff of his lungs a fight quickly broke out in the street, drawing prison workers out into the open to subdue the madman. Pitching himself over the wall and into a hay cart, Edward took advantage of the distraction to disable the alarm bell and dive into the bushes.

He worked his way around the edge of the fort, making small noises here and there to draw guards into the foliage where they could be more quietly dispatched. When he came upon a thick patrol, he slipped back over the wall and landed near the water.

Something caught his eye. A gruesome skeleton hanging in a gibbet to his left. He recognized the colorful set of rags it was garbed in on sight.

Edward dashed across the open to the bushes under the cage. He glanced around to find no enemies nearby before gazing up at the corpse with a heavy sigh, brushing back his hood in respect for the dead. "You weren't much of a friend, Jack Rackham, nor an able sailor neither. But you were strange and lively, and you made me laugh more than once. And that's enough to make me sorry for seeing you like this." He rose to his feet and backed away, seeking to proceed his mission with due haste. "I hope you found a lasting peace, down there, among the dead," he whispered as he pulled his hood up and ran deeper into the complex.

After taking out several more guards with the blowpipe, Kenway found some deteriorating scaffolding that allowed him to climb higher, up over the walls to the heart of the prison. This was where the gates to the cells underground could be found. He had to time his movements so that the riflemen on watch didn't spot him, and he took them out where he could. From the top of the ramparts he used a handful of sleep darts to take out the patrol below, allowing him to slip to the ground and disable the alarm bell before slitting their throats.

He rose from his last kill and looked around, his Other Eyes taking over. He quickly identified the door he desired and moved forward without hesitating.

No sooner was he within the dank, stone walls of the prison than he heard a mumbled, maddened singing he was all too familiar with, drawing his mind back to memories of days marooned that he'd rather forget.

" _-to wealth increase… Come, let us drink it while we have breath…"_

Edward rounded the first corner and dug his blade between the ribs of a guard who had his back turned. He dragged the body behind a wall and continued, jumping up into the beams near the ceiling where he could move nearly undetected by the redcoats beneath him. He waited for a patrol to pass under his perch and then dropped on their heads, cutting flesh with his weapons when his body weight didn't crush enough bone. With a few fluid spins he had a pile of dying men soiling his already filthy bare feet with the blood flowing freely from their wounds. The pirate quickly moved away from the unpleasantly warm, red pool and toward the source of the mad babbling.

" _Down among the dead men, let him lie…"_

"Hello, Vane," Edward muttered, wrapping his fingers around the bars of his old friend's cell. His words were met with no response or acknowledgement that they had even been heard, not that he'd expected any. "I caught wind that you'd been discovered and brought here. Didn't hear what happened after though…"

Vane shouted, clearly with words, though none that could be individually discerned. Edward hung his head, flushed through with sadness. So many of his freefolk friends, trapped away behind iron. He wanted to save them all, every one. But Vane… Vane he had to leave behind. The man had truly lost his mind. Any attempt to free him would only get the rest of them killed. With great remorse for the way things had ended up, Edward stepped away.

"Best of luck to you, mate. I wish we'd parted as friends…"

The next hallway held two patrolmen who barely had time to draw their weapons before being taken down by a newly-driven Captain Kenway. Their dying gurgling was quickly overshadowed by a bone-chilling cry. He recognized the voice.

His vision clouded over red and his veins lit up with fire.

Edward tore around the next corner and buried his blades up to his wrists into the next two brutes, bounding up some crates and into the rafters as they dropped to the ground with a pair of muffled thuds. A figure to his right caught his eye and he flicked his blades back out, prepared to attack. The shadow held out a steady hand of caution and pulled back its hood, revealing the weathered face of Ah Tabai. The master assassin waved for him to follow as he creeped forward to get a better view of the room.

That was when Anne started spitting venom.

"You spineless cockrobin!" The redhead's shout echoed against the stone walls. "Help her, for God's sake! Fetch help, somebody! Mary's ill! Somebody, please!"

A guard rapped on her cell bars with the pommel of his sword. "Hush your pie hole, bloody mick!" he snapped back, sounding as tense as he was annoyed.

"Fuck off, you!" Anne seethed, not to be intimidated. "My friend just had a child and…" Her voice broke, betraying the desperation behind her fury. "She's poorly now. Help, somebody!"

The guard grunted. "Oy! Shut your bleeding trap, or I'll fill it my own way!"

Like fucking hell he would. Edward leaped forward at that moment and tore his blade into the back of the scoundrel's neck from on high. At his side, Ah Tabai crashed into a second guard, cutting him down with ease. Edward ripped the key ring off the mouthy guard's belt and yanked Mary's cell door open before tossing it over to the Assassin so he could free Anne. Immediately, he went to Mary's side.

The first thing he registered was how cold she was to the touch. The second was how pallid her skin looked beneath his own hand. She barely flinched in response to his touch. She was so pale, so still… She was the vision of death itself.

In the pit of Edward's stomach, a feeling stirred that he had for years kept at bay. Guilt. Soul-devouring guilt. This was his doing. If Mary died, his hands would bear her blood for the rest of his life. His greed had found him shackled to a cage, unable to save his friend when she'd needed saving. If he hadn't been so obsessed with the Sage and the riches he imagined the Observatory would bring, he'd have been there to spring Mary from this hellhole before she'd even gone to trial. He was no hero, no savior, but for the woman in front of him he would lay down his life in an instant, he'd thought. Yet time had proven that not to be the case. He'd placed his ambition above it all.

No. It wasn't ambition. He could no longer convince himself it was anything near as noble as that. Greed. His greed had poisoned everything he loved.

"Mary? Mary, it's me, Edward," he whispered, brushing her hair aside, cupping and lifting her face so he could get a better look at her. She looked up at him, seemingly confused at first, but her eyes pulled into focus when they found his. She was alive, but she was not well, not by a league. Panic rose within his chest, threatening to gag him.

"Edward!" Anne called from the next cell over. "Who's this fella?"

Edward looked up to see her hobbling out into the hall, leaning on Ah Tabai as she supported her heavily engorged abdomen. Her child would be coming any day now, surely. "It's all right, Anne. He's a friend. What's wrong with Mary?" The fear and desperation in his voice couldn't be masked.

"She's ill," said Anne with a tone of grief.

Mary moaned in protest. Edward gripped her arm, making her slow herself. "And your child?" he asked tentatively. She grimaced, still too weak to talk.

"They took her," Anne answered for her. "No idea where." She cried out suddenly, gripping her swollen belly. She must be in the early hours of labor, he thought.

Ah Tabai steadied her. "I know it pains, M'lady, but we must be silent."

The tone of urgency in his voice reminded Edward of their priorities. He turned back to Mary and helped her sit up straighter. He could see her trying to rally, pull her strength together. "Can you walk?"

Mary nodded nodded but grasped in pain as he pulled her to her feet.

"Lean on me, Mary, come on," he urged, and helped her into the hallway. The weight of her pressed against him was unnerving. In all their past sparring she'd never had a problem pinning him down. She had always been sturdy. Solid muscle head to toe. But now… For the first time she seemed frail. Delicate. Fragile.

She stumbled after a few steps. Edward ducked under her arm so she could lean on him, but she shook her head. "I can't," she grunted, but he ignored her and pressed forward. She was weak from the childbirth, he knew that, but she was going to survive this. Losing her wasn't an option. He wouldn't accept it.

"Come on, that's it," he encouraged. "You're all right." His voice wavered. He desperately hoped she couldn't see that he was trying to convince himself as well as her.

They neared the corner and hope flared in his chest. They could make it out, Mary would make it.

But she stumbled again. Mary reached out for the wall and he helped her over. "Stop! Stop, please," she begged, clutching her abdomen. She pressed her clammy head against the cool stone and pulled her arm from around Edward's neck, resigned.

An agonizing mix of anger and panic flared up within Edward. She was giving up, something he'd never seen her do before, not once. She couldn't do that. She could make it, he knew it. "I ain't leaving you, damnit! Lift your arm!"

He managed to pull Mary away from the wall and help her limp around the bend. He saw the door and it was all he could do not to cry. If they could just make it to the door…

"It's no good…"

Edward grit his teeth. He stooped and swept her up into his arms. He wasn't as strong as he'd been before he'd left for the Observatory but he'd carry her from Kingston to London if it'd save her life.

He started staggering toward freedom. The shouting of guards reached their ears and Mary gave him a long, weary look, begging to be put down, urging him to save himself. Her face was inches from his. It was all he could see through the mist building in his eyes. "I ain't leaving you nowhere," he whispered, filled with determination. "No bloody way."

She was quiet for a long moment, studying his face. He didn't dare take his eyes off hers. "Put me down, Edward," she instructed.

He pinched his eyes shut. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and he stopped. Three deep breaths passed through his lungs before the thick cloud of emotions in his mind parted, letting one thought shine through with absolute clarity.

_No._

He started forward again with doubled fervor. He would free them both. Mary would not die that night in a dark, clammy jail hall. Everything was permitted, she'd told him that. He understood now. He was permitted to destroy those he loved, or to save them. From that moment forward, he would choose right.

They reached the door and Edward kicked it open. The sun hadn't risen yet and the cold night air slapped them both in the face. It was both jarring and invigorating. Edward glanced down at Mary for the first time since she'd last spoken. Her eyes were pinched shut and her skin was slick with sweat, but there was a look on her face that spurred him into hope. She was rallying. "Let me down," she whispered after a moment, but this time there was determination in her voice. Edward set her on her feet and she leaned against the wall. After a few seconds the trembling in her limbs calmed and she managed to stand without a support. The effort was clearly taxing on her, but there was a fire back in her eyes. His newfound determination and the fresh air seemed to have kick started her will to live. They were so close to freedom.

She was unarmed, so he slipped one of his blades off and strapped it to her bony wrist. Neither of them were accustomed to fighting with a single hidden blade, but it would have to make do.

They only had a few moments of reprieve before the noise of clashing blades reached their ears. The pair started forward, clear of the short alcove outside the door and into a small courtyard beneath a warehouse. The shadowy figure of Ah Tabai was crossing swords with a pair of guards while Anne ran for the shoreline.

"Cover Anne." Mary barked weakly, but with just as much authority as ever. "I've the Master's back. Go!"

Edward was loath to let her in a fight in her condition, but he knew it was pointless trying to argue with her. He tore after the young barmaid, his single blade drawn and ready to defend her and her unborn child. A set of guards, drawn by the commotion, came around the corner with weapons drawn. Edward charged at them. He launched off a crate in his path and sailed past one man's bayonet, knocking him to the ground before cutting his throat. The dead soldier's companion lashed out with his sword, connecting the blow with Kenway's shoulder. The pirate cried out, more startled than pained, and caught the next strike with his wristblade. The guard hammered down on the pirate with speed and aggression and got it two more hits. Edward felt his back up against the fence and wondered how long he could hold this off before the man opened himself up for a counterstrike.

He flinched as his face was sprayed with blood from the leak that had suddenly sprung in his attacker's throat. The guard gurgled as a wave of red soaked his shirt, quickly crumpling to the ground. Mary stood in his place, expressionless, with Ah Tabai at her shoulder and a knife in her hand that she'd lifted from one of her victims. They followed Ah Tabai down the hill as he chased after Anne, whose pace had slowed. They could hear her trying to mask her pained whimpers as they caught up. Her pregnancy was causing her significant trouble.

The four had switched into flight mode. They just needed to get into the water before any more patrols crossed their path. Freedom was so close. They passed the docks and raced down the shoreline. The dinghy Ah Tabai had arrived in came into view and Edward doubled his pace. His fingers closed satisfyingly around the rough grain of the wood and he gave the boat a rough push into the gentle waves. He turned to help the others in and that was when the shot rang out.

Her sharp, surprised cry rang out across the water. Time stood still for a moment as Edward watched Anne, mid-stride, fall to her knees and stay there. The gaping look of shock on her face slowly morphed to pain and then twisted into horror as her hands rose to her swollen belly and the rapidly spreading crimson stain across the fabric there.

Edward almost collided with Ah Tabai as he lurched toward Anne and the Assassin leaped to their defense against the sniper, blowpipe already drawn. Kenway dropped to his knees beside Mary where their friend had crumpled to the ground. Anne's breaths were coming in uneven gasps as her hands clawed at the wound, trying in vain to protect her womb from the bullet that was already inside her body. Mary grabbed her wrists and tried hush her, calm her panic.

"Anne, Anne, stop," she whispered. "You've got to relax. You're all right. Your little boy's all right. We can't stay here though. Let us move you." Mary turned to look at Edward and he could tell she knew she was lying through her teeth. She was right though. They had to move.

Edward swallowed hard. "This is going to hurt, but I need you not to scream." Anne bit her lip and braced as he scooped her up into his arms and stood. The poor woman… Such a commanding, powerful force in all his memories of her, yet she weighed as nothing while she bled out in his arms. He hurried her back to the dingy and tried to make her comfortable while Mary prepared it for departure.

Ah Tabai climbed into the boat moments later with a grim expression. Anne's cries were growing weaker. The other three gave each other somber glances of resignation. There was nothing that could be done for her, or her child.

By the time they reached the ship, Anne Bonny was gone.

* * *

The journey to Tulum from Kingston took about three days. Conditions on the small schooner the Assassins had commandeered for the rescue mission were cramped and less than sanitary, but to Mary and Edward the bunked hammocks may as well have been Governor's quarters on a transatlantic vessel. It was the first time either of them had slept on anything other than a stone floor in many months. They had quickly retired after reaching a safe distance from Jamaica, largely in part to the dirty looks many of the Assassin crew were giving Edward. He may have helped rescue one of their number, but another had not escaped with her life, and the continued association of death and Edward's presence had failed to improve his relations with the Brotherhood. The loss of Anne had dampened the spirits of everyone on board, but the pair of escaped convicts couldn't mourn in the hull for long before the ocean air tempted them back up to the main deck.

After sleeping for what felt like a week, Edward rolled out of his hammock and stumbled up into the light of day. He rubbed his wrists as he blinked against the sun, relishing in the lack of irons around them. He quickly found Ah Tabai at the helmsman's side, giving him instructions. The Master locked eyes with the pirate and gave a meaningful nod toward the prow. Kenway turned to follow his gaze and saw Mary leaning over the side of the ship, sipping reverently at a bottle of rum. Her hair was pulled back in its usual knot at the nape of her neck, but she wore a loose shirt that flapped like a banner in the breeze around the curves of her body which she was making no effort to mask around the Brotherhood. She looked so strong and so womanly in that moment that Edward was sure this was the first moment he was seeing her as she truly was. Mary, as she was always intended to be, in the middle of the sea with nothing to hide.

He waved his thanks to Ah Tabai and approached her, almost cautiously. For all his newly regained sense of freedom, he somehow felt restrained from the only thing he wanted in the world, and that was to touch her. Something in him wouldn't let him raise his arms, bring his fingers to her face. She was alive. They were free from Torres. He'd gotten them out. He just wanted to pull her close and assure himself that he had woken from the nightmare of the last few months. But he knew he was being ridiculous, so he settled for propping himself next to her and holding his hand out expectantly for the bottle in her hands.

Mary smirked and passed it over, but her expression remained grim. She looked as weak as he felt. Her cheeks were still clammy. She may have been on her feet but she was by no means all well yet. "I never thought I'd see this again," she said, gesturing with her chin at the horizon the horizon. The sun was rising among the small islands that dotted the border between sea and sky. "Thought I'd live and breathe my last in those rank walls."

Edward smiled a little. "Aye. I never thought I'd see _this_ again." He shook the bottle of rum before taking another swig. It felt as though he would never sate the thirst he'd suffered in that prison, as though all the ale in the world couldn't compensate for the lack of the past few months. He was sure going to try though.

Mary laughed weakly at that. "You can drink the rest. Blast, I've not been seasick since I was sixteen and took my first commission." She clutched her stomach uncomfortably. "That drink ain't helping my cause."

He snickered. "You shouldn't say that out loud. A fearsome sailor such as yourself can't stomach the waves? If word of it spread you'd never captain a ship again."

That got a smile out of her. "Aye, you can add it to my list of things to keep quiet." She yanked down the collar of her blouse, exposing her tattoo and the tops of her breasts. Edward laughed and focused his attention on the bottle in his hands to keep himself from looking longer than it took to get her point.

The look of her skin, however, caused him to notice that her color hadn't yet returned. In fact, she had a slight green shade about her. "Mary, are you sure you're feeling well?" he asked, suddenly quite concerned. He gave her a better look over and she seemed as if her condition were deteriorating while he watched. She'd looked so strong from a distance but now that he was up close he could see that she wasn't right, not at all.

"It's just the tossing of the ship. I'll be fine soon enough." She attempted to stand up straighter to punctuate her point, but she stumbled a bit in shifting her weight. Edward reached out to steady her by the arm, and nearly recoiled on contact.

"Mary, you're burning!" he exclaimed, placing his other hand to her cheek. It was on fire. The icy temperature of her skin in the prison had turned to a boiling fever overnight.

She shook her head, but the motion seemed to disorient her. "It's the seasickness."

"No, it's not. Come down below deck and let someone look at you, please."

"I don't need-" She tried to pull away from him but stumbled backward, catching herself on a stack of crates.

"That's it, you're done objecting." He scooped her up into his arms and made for the hold, calling out as he went, "Ah Tabai! Mary's ill!"

The Assassin Mentor was at his side in almost an instant, guiding Edward down the stairs. "Lay her down on those sacks," he instructed. "I want to keep her still."

Edward did as requested and stood back. Mary followed him with her eyes, but they were unfocused and she seemed to be slipping out of consciousness in her fatigue. "What's wrong with her?" His tone betrayed the desperation and fear he was trying so hard to suppress within himself.

"It's likely childbed fever," Ah Tabai responded solemnly while he felt her over. "I've seen it before. She has the look about her, and given it's only been two days since she gave birth, the timing would be right."

"That sounds severe." The sudden pressure Edward was feeling in his chest didn't help him maintain a calm demeanor.

"If I'm correct, she has a few days to fight off the illness. If she cannot, she'll last maybe a week at most."

Edward's ears were ringing by this point. _A week_ … "Is there nothing that can be done to help her?"

"I've heard of some English doctors bleeding their patients to relieve the fever, but I wouldn't know how to do it, myself. Her best hope is rest until we reach Tulum where our healers can attend to her. Stay with her, I'll see if I can find something aside from rum for her to drink."

Kenway nodded and settled onto a barrel next to Mary. "Aye, I'll watch her." Ah Tabai left and he placed a shaking hand on her wrist. She blinked her eyes open and found his. "Have you been listening?" he asked softly. She nodded lazily and closed her eyes again. He gently squeezed her wrist. "You have to fight this Mary."

"I ain't going nowhere," she muttered and twisted her hand to grab his reassuringly. "I'm with you, Kenway. Like it or not."

* * *

Edward had never attended a funeral before.

Many men died at sea, sure, and he'd had many a drink in honor of those fallen friends. This, however, was his first formal funeral. The funeral of Anne Bonny.

He'd been told that the Assassins kept a secret burial ground, but as Anne had never been inducted into the order she couldn't be permitted a grave there. Instead, her final resting place would be in the Tulum jungle, in the shadow of one of the Mayan temples.

Ah Tabai stood over the bleak mound of dirt, speaking bleak, age-old words not befitting the fireball of a woman they were there to honor. Edward wasn't bothered by that; he knew it was an honor for a civilian to be given an Assassin's burial, and everyone there knew she was worthy of that honor.

In all his mixed emotions, the absence Edward felt the most was, in fact, Mary's. Her condition had worsened greatly since their arrival in Tulum the night before. He'd gone to see her that morning but she'd been asleep, and the healers wouldn't let him stay with her.

Ah Tabai finished his piece and stepped aside. Members of the crowd started coming forward then and leaving things on the grave, such as flowers and other tokens. Anne hadn't been in this life very long, but she had obviously made as much of an impact on these people as she had on Edward. He stood to the side and watched for a while. Some stopped for longer than others, taking a minute to say a few words or shed some tears. The whole scene was very odd to the young captain, but it moved him deeply. Ah Tabai had conducted the ceremony with the perfect amount of gravitas and sincerity, but this was how he'd always imagined a family formally addressing the passing of a loved one. It was the personal aspect, honoring the relationships and impact of the life that had been lost, not simply the person deceased.

When the bulk of the crowd had cleared, Edward decided to take his turn. He knelt at the foot of the grave and pulled a flask out of his pocket. It was nothing special. It wasn't even his. But if he could have left her with anything, it would have been his favorite flask, safely tucked away on the _Jackdaw_. "I hope one day to return with the real thing, but this will have to do for now," he murmured as he placed the flask with the other tributes and sprinkled some dirt over it. "You always kept my cup full and my spirits high. You were one hell of a woman, Anne… I am going to miss you. More than I think you would know."

He sat there, staring at the earth for a minute. He wanted to move, he wanted to let the next person pay their respects, but he didn't feel finished. There was a weight on his heart. This young woman, this young mother who never got to meet her child… And her closest friend who was at that moment fighting for her life as a disease consumed her. All three lives were on his hands. It was his fault. His greed, his self-serving drive, had killed Anne and her child. It was killing Mary.

Desperation railed against reason inside of him. He would give anything to go back, to change himself, to save them. He wanted it so bad he almost believed he could. But then he looked at the dirt beneath his hands and he knew it was too late. "I'm sorry," he whispered as tears began to fall down his face. "Anne, I'm so sorry."

When he pulled himself together he noticed a pair of Assassins watching him. One was a woman with short, yellow hair and the other was a young Mayan man with a crooked nose. He stood and brushed himself off before heading back down the path to let them have their time at the grave.

The man and woman stood still, however, and as Edward passed them the woman spit at the ground at his feet. He stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face them. "Is there something you'd like to say to me?" he asked. His voice was ragged from crying, but challenging nonetheless.

"There's a lot more I'd like to do than talk," the man bit back, crossing his arms threateningly.

"Death follows you wherever you go, Captain Kenway." The woman sneered his name with a vaguely Scottish accent. "How do we know you didn't cause this?" she accused with a nod at the grave. "It wouldn't be the first time Read lied to cover your arse."

That made Edward's fists ball. If there was one thing Mary was not guilty of, it was letting him off the hook for his mistakes. "You leave her out of this. If you've got a problem with me then come out with it."

"The Master may have some twisted hope for you," the man answered. "but there are those in the Brotherhood who still want your blood for your actions in Havana."

Kenway felt rage building within him. "That was nearly six years ago, and I'd wager I've lost far more friends for my mistakes that day than the number of lives I took. Have I not paid for my crimes in full?" he demanded with a punctuating wave at Anne's resting place.

The woman's lips curled at that. "Our losses have been far greater than just what we suffered there. Your _crimes_ have crippled the Brotherhood here in such a way that we may never recover." She stepped closer, her face just inches from his. "The only payment that would give me any satisfaction is your life."

Edward moved in closer, pushing into her space so she had to step back. "And who's going to collect? You?"

Evidently taking that as a challenge, she cried out and slapped him across the face with her engaged wristblade. Shocked, he staggered back, gripping his stinging cheek. When he pulled his hand away he saw his fingers laced with blood. She came down on him again but he caught her blow with his own blade and punched her exposed abdomen with his other hand. The Mayan boy shouted and grabbed her, pulling her back before lunging at Edward, himself.

"Ikal! Edward!" A sharp, disapproving shout interrupted their fight a few blows in. They paused and turned to see Ah Tabai coming back up the path with a stern look on his face. All three retracted their blades and disentangled, standing at attention like errant children awaiting reprimand.

The Master stood in front of them and stared them all down for a quiet minute before raising his hand. "Ikal, Glenna, go to the temple and wait to speak to me there. Edward, I want a word with you alone."

The two Assassins gave the pirate parting glares before running off toward the village. Edward reciprocated the look to their backs as they left and touched his cheek again to find that it was still bleeding. With an annoyed grunt he turned to face Ah Tabai again.

"That's your third quarrel since you arrived yesterday, and the first to come to blows." The older man lectured. "You are not helping your standing with the Brotherhood."

"And who says I want to?" Edward retorted.

"I'm beginning to see the man in you that Mary has told me for years is there. But I cannot convince the others if your actions contradict my words, and I must say, your presence during this trying time is not helping the matter."

Edward sighed heavily and stared off at the trees. "Don't worry, I'm no happier being here than you lot are having me. Soon as I know Mary's on the mend, I'll be off."

Ah Tabai pursed his lips and exhaled. "That is why I came to find you, as it happens. The healers say she's asking for you."

His tone struck fear through Edward. "I'll be off to see her then," he said and moved off toward the village without another though.

Ah Tabai caught his arm, however. "One thing, first." He opened the bag he was carrying and pulled handed Kenway a set of light blue Assassin's robes, like the ones he had pulled of Duncan Walpole so many years ago, and since lost due to his imprisonment. "She has high hopes for you, Edward. You haven't earned these… But they suit you."

Edward held his gaze calmly, then thanked him with a wordless nod. He darted down the path with the new robes in his hand and wove through the jungle of huts down toward the water to where Mary was being housed in the healer's shack. His heart was pounding. He had no idea what he'd be greeted by when he arrived.

Edward hesitantly pulled the curtain back and ducked into the hut. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the lighting before they fell on Mary. Her pallid skin almost shone with a sickly glean against the darkness. She was sitting, propped up by a few pillows and some wadded up cloth, seemingly unconscious. The room smelled like death, he thought. He swallowed hard against the obstruction in his throat and moved to her side, settling on the edge of her cot.

Mary moaned lightly and rolled her head to face him. She blinked her eyes open slowly, weakly, and focused on his face. "Edward?" she whispered.

He raised a hand to her cheek. Her skin burned alarmingly hot but he held her gaze without flinching. "I'm here."

She shuddered and pinched her eyes shut. "I'm so cold."

He couldn't fathom it. She was boiling to his touch, and the humidity was oppressive. "Here, let's lay you back a bit." He gently pulled one of the large bundles of fabric from behind her head and spread it out, adding it to her layers of blankets that he then tucked up closer to her shoulders. "Better?"

She gave an affirmative grunt and a slight nod. She was still then for a long while and he tried to tell himself she was gathering her strength. But a small voice in the back of his head was screaming with increasing volume that she didn't have any strength left to collect. She looked so fragile… Like a heavy wind might shatter her.

"Ah Tabai said you sent for me," he prompted after a few minutes, trying to keep her talking.

Mary coughed against a dry through and looked up at him. Her gaze was tired. "What happened to your cheek?" she asked, ignoring his implied question.

His hand raised to the stinging line on his face where he could feel the blood that had started to dry there. "Your friends aren't exactly thrilled about my presence here. Or me in general, I'm sure."

She sighed heavily. "You have so much potential, Edward. I wish they could see it. I wish you could, for that matter."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Perhaps someday the world will be as it is through your eyes."

A small grin pulled at her dry lips. "I wish I could stay to see it."

Edward felt as though his heart vanished from his chest in that moment. In its place was a stone, pressing on his lungs and threatening his ability to breathe. She wasn't going to make it. They both knew it. They shared a long glace before he realized what she was trying to say and he had to look away. He studied her hand in his, with its crisscrossing scars and ragged nails.

She'd called him in to say goodbye.

He couldn't look at her, he just couldn't. The pain in his chest was overwhelming. But at the same time, if this was his last chance, he couldn't dare look away. He tore his eyes from her hands to her face, studying every inch. Her fawn brown eyes. The strong angle of her nose. The scar that ran from her left brow to cheekbone, the one that matched his own.

"You're such a pain in the arse," he breathed, feigning an attempt at lightheartedness yet fooling no one. "Damn it… You should have been the one to outlast me."

She shook her head slowly. The movement was visibly taxing on her. She didn't have much life left in her. Her eyes never left his face, like she was studying him the way he was studying her: for the last time. "I've done my part," she murmured, and they both knew she had. She'd lived a full, purposeful life like few ever did. But then came her question, as loaded as any had ever been. "Will you?"

Her gaze was imploring and he wanted so badly to say yes. But he couldn't. He couldn't promise her what he knew she wanted. He was weak, he was scared, and he felt he'd only disappoint her. He needed her. He realized that now. She was one of the only people he'd known who could keep him accountable, could make him better. She saw more in him than he had ever believed was there. He needed her. She couldn't leave him. "If you came with me, I could," he promised. His tone was begging.

The look she gave him was resigned and apologetic, but also strangely comforting. He knew she wasn't giving up, but this was something stronger than her. She'd finally found something even she couldn't fight through. Her answer wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it was the only right thing she could have said. "I'll be with you, Kenway. I will."

And he knew it was the truth. He couldn't rid his heart of her if he tried.

He wracked his brain for something, anything to say, but no words felt right. How do you say goodbye to someone you never imagined you'd lose?

So he looked at her, and she looked at him, and they sat like that for a long time, just memorizing each other. He knew she wanted him to leave. Neither of them wanted him to remember her this way. This wasn't her. For him to stay with her to the end was unthinkable, he knew. She'd never allow it. He needed to go, but he couldn't bear to move from where he sat. Leaving that hut without her would be the single most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. Every minute he could delay the inevitable was one he would savor.

But he couldn't stay forever. Eventually he found the strength to give her hand one last squeeze and lean in to gently, reverently, press his lips to her damp forehead. He stood and made for the doorway, but stopped just outside to look back at her one last time. She was watching him leave. Their eyes met and she gave him a small, peaceful smile before closing her lids and sinking back into her pillows. He let the curtain fall between them.


	7. Silhouette

**Song:** _Silhouette_ \- Aquilo

Edward rolled onto his side and grasped blindly at the floor for the bottle of rum he kept at his bedside. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face and bare chest. Sickness gripped his stomach like that of a man who was uneasy at sea. He squinted at the fireplace, trying to focus on just one log at a time. They seemed to triplicate when he did.

The dreams still plagued him on occasion. April 1721. It had been dark night in the already shadowed life that Kenway lead. The memories he relived in his sleep got the better of him at times. It had been easier, in a way, when he'd shared a cabin with Mary. There he could get up in the middle of the night to check her pulse, touch her warm cheek, assure himself that she was still breathing. Remind himself she wasn't the pallid figure bundled in cloth that haunted him when he closed his eyes. In the past few weeks since they started their stay at Inagua, he'd woken up more than once on the bench outside her door, usually encircled by empty bottles. He didn't believe she knew. She'd have said something mocking if she did.

The sound of booted footsteps drifted through the door. The captain rolled to his other side to see Mary stalk through the central room with a look of purpose on her face and a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

Edward sat up a little too fast in anticipation. "Rhona?" he grunted. He pressed his palm to his forehead as he tried to get his eyes to focus on hers.

"Aye." She crouched at the bedside and reached across the empty pillow to hand him the paper. "She'll be expecting us within the week."

"We'll leave tomorrow, then. The crew has been ready for days now." He scanned the letter. Rhona warned of tightened security around Havana. It seemed Torres was expecting them as well. The old Spaniard was right to be worried. "Let the men know." Edward kicked his feet over the side and Mary tossed him a shirt, which he tugged on as he followed her out the door.

* * *

"Kenway!" Mary shouted from her perch in the crow's nest. "You seeing this too, mate?"

Edward, understanding her meaning, fixed his Sense on the city. Everything he saw radiated a hostile energy that made the hair on his arms stand at attention. It was as though the streets themselves were primed to hunt him down. Little spikes in the light of life glowed red at points along the port. They'd been warned of increased patrols but this was far more than they'd expected. "Aye, Jim! And I don't like it." He handed the wheel to young Bell and met Mary at the base of the ratlines.

"How do you want to handle this?" he asked when she dropped to the deck beside him with a sturdy thud.

"The streets are thick with Templar rats, but the rooftops won't be as heavily guarded. I doubt many of their men can handle that terrain." She crossed her arms and scanned Havana through squinted eyes, plotting. "That's where you and I can outpace them, so that's how we'll move through the city. I'll send a bird to the bureau. Keep the skull close. We'll set out at noon."

Edward nodded in agreement. "I'm ready to be done with this mess."

Mary gave him a tired, slightly annoyed look. "I've been fighting this war a lot longer than you have, man, and it wasn't a mess 'til you turned up." She patted him rather roughly on the shoulder before heading below deck where the carrier pigeons were kept.

Edward tried to come up with a retort, but as usual, she was too right to be argued with. This was his mess. He was lucky she wasn't making him mop it up by himself, though in truth that was probably because she wanted to ensure it got done right.

* * *

When the sun was at its apex, Mary and Edward dove over the side of the _Jackdaw_ and swam into the harbor. They skirted along the water's edge, leaping between boats and docks until they found a quiet sport to cut across the road and climb onto the rooftops. From there they made their way into the heart of the city with Mary leading the way to their agreed-upon meeting place.

Rhona had beaten them there and was lounging on a stack of crates, reading a letter. "Ah, Mary! Captain Kenway!" She greeted when the pair clambered onto the rooftop terrace, rising from her perch. "I assume this is the friendliest face you've seen since dropping anchor," she quipped and pointed to her smile.

Mary smirked with a twinkle of pride in her fawn eyes. "Is Havana under curfew on our account?"

"Mmm, aye," Rhona confirmed, turning to overlook the streets. "Torres seems to think someone's coming after him."

"He's not wrong," Edward mused, lifting the crystal skull from his coat. He stared into its hollow eyes, admiring the contraption for a moment and thanking God they'd been able to keep it safely in their possession since thieving it from Roberts. It was going to make the day's undertaking almost too easy.

Rhona's face twisted at the sight of the skull. "A manky looking thing," she remarked. "Is that what I think it is?"

Mary nodded. "Aye. Watch." She pulled the cubic vial containing Torres' blood from her coat. They each carried one of the two pieces to the machine separately, for security. She slipped the cube into the notch in the skull's forehead and in a tone of reverence explained, "Through the blood of the blood of the governor, we can see through his eyes."

The skull began to glow with an otherworldly sheen and an image of a building Edward didn't recognize materialized in the air between the three of them.

Rhona's mouth fell agape at the sight. Pointing in awe she stammered, "That's… that's by the church!"

Mary took the skull from Edward and the image disappeared. "Keep this safe," she instructed, pressing it into Rhona's hands. "Just in case."

Rhona nodded. "I'll be at the bureau."

The women hugged farewell. Edward stuck out his hand in the same sentiment but Rhona ignored it, pulling him into a friendly embrace while he stood there like an awkward tree. She and Mary smirked at his discomfort. "Good luck!" she shouted as she vaulted the banister and slipped down the side of the building into the streets below.

Edward shook off his embarrassment and took a stride toward the edge of the roof, surveying the city. Mary moved to his side, their shoulders just brushing. Her closeness soothed his restlessness.

"You're eager for this one, aren't you?" she asked

He nodded. "Torres… My first visit to this city amounted to days of pandering to that man's ego, only for him to rob me of what I – well, Walpole – was owed, and ended in my humiliation by his guard dog, El Tiburón. Needless to say, our relationship has not improved from there. Aye, I'm eager to end it." He paused for a moment, watching the civilians milling about a few dozen feet below, going about their daily routines, running errands. It was such a simple existence. Uncomplicated. And there he stood above them, deciding the course of history. The difference of worlds across a few dozen feet was dizzying. "Do you ever envy them?" he asked.

Mary cocked her head, confused at his change in direction. "No. Do you?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't."

She leaned back against the banister to look him in the eye and shrugged with a glance back down at the street. "We're cut from a different cloth, you and I. That's no life for us."

He smiled warmly at her and a sense of certainty settled over him. She was right, they were made for a different world that the rest. He'd thought the place for him was Nassau, his Pirate Republic, but even that hadn't been quite right. He'd been made for her world, the Assassin Order. A world that men like Torres actively sought to burn to the ground, one that he would defend to his last. "Let's get our man before we lose his location."

"Good, my blades are starting to itch." She swung her legs over the side of the building and leaped, swinging from a pole onto the next rooftop.

Edward followed her north, giving her the lead since he'd been too lazy to study the map of the city she'd given him last night. The church was relatively close by, it turned out. Mary jumped another gap and climbed a story higher. When he joined her, she was standing over a guard who appeared to be knocked out, not dead. She held a finger to her lips and pointed. The church yard was just over a wall on the other side of the narrow street. She took a running leap and sailed over it into a hay cart in the corner, popping out a moment later to signal him before darting into the bushes. He followed suit, getting scratched in the face by some hay, much to his annoyance.

"Do you see anything?" he asked when he slipped into her hiding place, rubbing his stinging cuts.

"Aye." She nodded to the back corner of the church. "Just there."

A group of men stood by a pile of crates conversing. All were in uniform save for one hulking form in full armor. "El Tiburón," Edward hissed.

"I figured it. But Torres isn't with them."

"Well, you can always trust a dog to return to his master."

Mary nodded in understanding before placing a cautioning hand on his arm. "They're coming back this way. Get to the rooftops."

She turned and jumped back across the street before the patrol could spy her, and Edward waited until they had passed to do the same. They followed with as much distance as they could while still maintaining a line of sight until they came upon a courtyard and heard a commotion. Below them, a pair of sailors were facing off against some guards. Edward engaged his blade and tensed to leap to their defense but Mary pulled him back. "They can't make us!" she hissed.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she was right. Their objective was too important to risk over this scuffle. They watched, helpless, as El Tiburón cut down each sailor with a single blow. Torres' enforcer shouted at the guards, waving his axe at them, before marching forward again like nothing had happened.

Mary patted Edward with eager realization. "They're headed for the fort. Must be where Torres is holed up, the rat. C'mon." They dove into a hay cart and sprinted across the courtyard before scaling the building opposite them and making their way toward the edge of the city.

After knocking out a series of guards along the rooftops they were soon faced with the towering stone walls of the Castillo. Below them, their mark crossed the drawbridge into the fortress. Some unintelligible orders were shouted and the front gates were shut with two sentries posted.

Mary surveyed the area. Guards dotted the parapets. "How d'you reckon we get in?"

Edward shook his head. "I've penetrated this fussock before. We'll have a fight, but it's not difficult. This way."

It started to rain as he darted across the rooftops toward the trees. He blinked against the droplets hitting his face as he threw himself into the branches of the first one. He slipped between the split trunks and leaped for a wooden pole jutting from the side of the wall. After pulling himself up and checking to see that Mary had followed, he turned and jumped for a metal ring in the wall high above his head. The last step was the hardest, he remembered, since he'd almost fallen the first time he'd done this many years ago. Summoning his strength, he pushed off with his feet and his one hand on the ring to grab a second ring from where he could hang from the edge of the parapet. Catching his breath for a moment, he waited for a guard to pass in front of him before springing onto the wall and shoving his wrist blade deep into the man's neck. Mary dropped beside him as he was pulling the body into a corner and ran off to the right, ducking behind some crates before dispatching another unsuspecting soldier passing by.

The jumped on a ledge together like two birds lurking in branches over their prey and waited for Torres to pass beneath. Then they flew, their blades as their wings.

They crashed down into the small group of men, taking out all four at once. Victory lit Edward's veins like lines of gunpowder as he strutted over to the Spanish governor. "You're done, Torres," he declared, flipping the dying man onto his back.

A wig fell from the man's head. It wasn't Torres. They'd been tricked.

Before he could even react, his Other Sense lit up the back of his skull with pinpricks and he ducked instinctively as an axe swung just where his neck had been a moment earlier.

"Christ!" Mary shouted, springing backward and drawing her sword just as fast. Edward rolled to her side and drew his own blades, tensed for battle. El Tiburόn's hulking form faced them down. Four soldiers flanked him.

"This again, eh?" Edward shouted tauntingly. He turned to Mary. They'd fought this fight a dozen times. She was faster, and better with a knife. She could get in close on a large enemy and target their weak points. Edward was better with the double-wield and could better handle multiple opponents. One look was all they needed to coordinate their attack.

They moved forward with Edward two steps ahead, drawing out the grunts. One struck out first, but Edward caught the sword with both of his and kicked the man in the gut, knocking him to the ground. Before he could dispatch him, two more swung at Edward together, catching him on the defensive and pushing him back. The last jumped at Mary, but she used his momentum against him and sent him flying past with a maneuver of her sword. Edward parried with the two standing men, keeping them distracted while Mary faced off with El Tiburόn. She ducked his first heaving blow, stabbing at his side with _Venganza_ , but she couldn't find a chink in his thick armor, and only narrowly avoided having her ribs broken as he retaliated with a jab from the butt of his axe. His next blow hammered down on the flat of her sword, and again and again as he pushed her backward. He paused, winding up for a massive strike, and she took her chance to lash out at his knees. He saw that coming, though, and swept her legs out from under her before delivering a brutal kick to her abdomen.

Her cry of shock and pain jostled Edward and he lost his focus. The soldier he was dueling took the opening to cut him across the collarbone, just narrowly missing his throat. The pirate stumbled back and the guards gave him space. El Tiburόn stepped forward, his axe wound to strike. Edward's heart jumped into his throat and he rolled.

The whistle of the axe slicing the air was silence by a sharp _bang_.

El Tiburόn shouted in pain.

When Edward righted himself, he saw Mary crouched with a pistol in her hand.

"He's too fine an axeman to take on directly, but he's no more immune to bullets than you or I," she seethed.

He knew she was right. Swordplay was just play here. They'd have to rely on their marksmanship. That was easier said than done, however. There were four grunts to interfere, and El Tiburόn was drawing his own pistol.

A guard swung out at Edward and he dodged, seizing the man by the collar of his coat and pulling him close just as his opponent pulled the trigger. Tossing the screaming soldier aside, the young captain drew his own pistols and fired one after the other, emptying all four in his holsters. El Tiburόn groaned and faltered, but righted himself.

Panicked and left with empty guns, Edward drew back, fumbling for his ammo pouch. Mary stepped in, firing one more shot at their angry, armored foe, halting the start of his charge, before fending off the remaining guards. El Tiburόn fired another gun as she ducked behind another grunt, incapacitating another human shield.

By then Edward had reloaded his pistols, but the remaining two guards were on him. He parried, but couldn't get an effective swing in edgewise until Mary joined him, drawing away one so he could dispatch the other. As soon as he had, he fired off a second round at their boss.

El Tiburόn's helmet tumbled to the ground with a dull thud.

The pirates made excited eye contact. He was vulnerable. They needed to land just one final shot.

Mary dug Venganza deep into the ribs of her opponent and shoved him to the ground before she whipped out her pistol and the fatal blow rang through the air.

The Shark fell.

Edward moved to the dying Templar's side while Mary retrieved her prized knife from her victim's body. "If you could speak, mate, it would gladden me to hear your side."

El Tiburόn just groaned and his neck went slack. He'd passed on.

Edward sighed with regret, thinking back to his first encounter with the Templars. He'd been so foolish, so naïve. He'd been in over his head without thinking it possible. "You humbled me once, and I took that hard lesson, and I bettered myself. Die knowing that, for all of our conflict, you helped make a soldier out of a scoundrel." He felt Mary's reassuring touch on his shoulder, and he knew his words made her proud. They were the truth.

She knelt next to the body and closed his eyes. "Leave this life for a lasting peace, down among the dead."

The doors to the Castillo flew open at that moment and soldiers came pouring in.

"That'd be our cue." Edward grabbed Mary by the hand and tossed a smoke bomb at their feet. "This way!" he coughed, pulling her up the stairs and across the rampart. "Jump!" he ordered and they flew over the side of the parapet. He thanked every good force in his life that he hadn't be cursed with a fear of heights as they sliced through the water far below.

* * *

Sneaking back across the city wasn't easy, and they were both in a foul mood over the outcome of their mission, but they reached the bureau without incident. When they got there, they found Rhona looking worried and confused. "We got word Torres left the city. Who were you chasing?"

"That vial was labled Torres, but held the blood of his second. Where's he gone?" Edward strode over to the table where the skull was sitting and picked it up. Mary glared at it, clearly irritated by its deception.

"Left port this morning, heading west along the coast."

Edward felt the grim expression across his face harden. "The Observatory." He shared a glance with Mary. They'd been so close. If they'd just left Inagua a day earlier…

"The Jackdaw will follow," Mary announced. Her tone was angry, but certain.

Edward nodded in agreement and turned back to Rhona. "Send word to Ah Tabai." He gestured to Mary and she followed him out of the bureau. "We've cornered our man."

* * *

Neither of them said a word until they reached their ship, but their frustrations were palpable even to those without the Sense. For the two of them, it was like the other was radiating their unspoken tension like heat off a flame. They built off each other, intensifying, until like two torches tosses on a pyre they ignited, unrestrained.

No sooner had Edward locked their cabin door than Mary plowed her fist into the post by her cot. The wood splintered, cutting her knuckles, but she didn't seem to notice. "We had him! We were hours behind, Edward _, hours_. We could've ended this, today."

"The bloody prick," Edward seethed, clenching his fist around the neck of a bottle as he tossed back a much-needed drink. He fantasized it was Torres' neck he gripped instead. "He preaches peace and order, that the ends justify the means. Yet the rules apply to all but him. Fucking hypocrite." He emptied the bottle and threw it at the wall, shattering it, and dropped his robes to the ground, irritated by the weight. All must be watched, but the Grand Master's movements could stay secret? He had a feeling it had little to do with safety, though that must be what Torres told his disciples.

"His breaths are numbered." Mary yanked her coat off and threw it on a chair before pulling her hair loose around her shoulders. "And this is the blade that'll count zero." She pulled _Venganza_ from its holster and stabbed the desk with it. The ruby in the pommel glittered red in a way that matched the aura of aggression flowing off his quartermaster.

They perched on opposite ends of the desk and he passed her a new bottle. They stared down the knife for a moment, both thinking about all it represented. Everything that had been taken from them. The fight for their lives, for their freedom. Their connection, their partnership. Its very name, Revenge.

"The Templars have been a great sickness on these seas. They've all but decimated the Assassins, aye, and partly by my hand I'll admit. But we're so _close_ , Mary. We've come so far with so little, and we know we've got them running scared."

Mary scoffed. "They should have known we'd only become stronger the further they pushed us into the shadows. We work in the dark to serve the light." Her finger brushed over the tips of a candle's flame before pinching it out.

"Torres meant nothing to me more than pompous, lucrative mark when we first met," Edward started. "And I may have single-handedly torn my life down around mine own ears in the past but he was more than eager to help along the way. Even without the scourge of the Templars, I'd want him dead. He came after me for what I knew. He threatened Caroline. He threatened you. He made it personal."

"Your hunger for power is dangerous, but his could topple the world order, and not for the better." Mary stood and stepped closer to pull the ruby-gilded dagger from the wood. She stood mere inches from him with a knife in one hand and a drink in the other. Her hair hung free around her face and her fawn brown eyes glowed with a dangerous light. "You want to talk personal? He took my child. He terrorized my people. He killed my best friend and he nearly killed me. But I _will_ kill him."

Edward could never say what came over him. He simply couldn't bear it any longer. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, crushing his lips to hers. The fire in their veins lit up the room in an instant and he saw a different kind of red.

Mary dropped the things in her hands on the desk beside him and brought her fingers to his hair, pulling it loose like hers. Her raven locks hung around them like a curtain as he lifted her, carrying her to his bed with her legs wound around his waist. He dropped her onto the mattress and she pulled him down with her. She rolled him onto his back and loomed over him, learning to move together as her hands slipped under his shirt, feeling their way across his abdomen. Edward moved his fingers to her hips and gave them a light squeeze, and her gasp broke their lips apart for the first time since he'd kissed her. He hated the distance and quickly pulled her back.

_BOOM._

The commotion from upstairs made them leap apart like they'd been shocked.

"Captain!" the cook's furious voice came through the wood of the door. "Yer new hires fucked up my shipment of leeks!"

Edward and Mary just stared at each other, jarred by reality.

"Ehrm…" Edward cleared his throat a moment later. "You go. I'm, eh, gonna need a minute."

Mary blinked a moment before understanding. "Aye. Got it." She stood and straightened her clothes, tying her hair back before leaving without another word.


	8. Pray Your Gods

**Song:** _Pray Your Gods_ \- Toad The Wet Sprocket

Edward sat by the window at the back of his cabin gazing at the water that moved beneath the ship and the light rays bouncing off the waves as the sun set. His view was muddled by the grime on the glass. He held his bone necklace in his hands and absently thumbed at the black beads framing either end. Mary's beads.

The past two days had been… odd. They hadn't spoken about what happened between them after Havana, a brief culmination of the whirl of mixed emotions that had been stirring in him for years and, he suspected – no, hoped – in her as well. They'd gone about business as usual since then. Kenway couldn't tell which of them was reluctant to broach the subject, but neither of them had brought it up. He believed, though, that despite being the original instigator, it was he that had been avoiding confrontation.

It wasn't rejection he feared, no. If that night had been nothing but a frustrated lapse in judgement for Mary, though she wasn't prone to those, he doubted it would have any impact on their bond. It would hardly be the greatest thing they'd overcome in order to stay together. And they would stay together. He knew that neither of them was want to lose the other, not one more time. Of that, he was certain. No, what he feared most was that she might return the feelings he was avoiding putting a name to.

Caroline. His darling wife Caroline. He'd been a dreadful husband to her, he saw that now. For nearly a decade, he had waved her name like the flag on his ship as the reason for all he did. In truth, she'd been the lie he was telling himself to justify taking and doing what he pleased. She'd deserved better. She'd deserved more than just his love, but to _be_ loved, actively, in the truest sense. She deserved to be honored.

The man he'd been before wouldn't have been what she deserved, wouldn't have tried, but he was no longer that man. He was changing. Mary had changed him, and he would honor the faith that she had placed in him. He would be the noble man hiding behind the scoundrel that the rest of the world accepted at face value. He couldn't honor Mary without Caroline. He was going to fix his marriage… for Mary.

It was the most fucked up thought he believed he'd ever had, among many years of many fucked up thoughts.

He wondered often if Caroline would even want his devotion if it weren't solely for her sake. Was that even honest? Because the thing was, he'd hardly been faithful. More women had been in and out of his bed than he cared to count since the day he'd taken his vows at the age of eighteen, yet he had never come close to loving any of them. In that sense, he had remained loyal. However, as he sat there eleven years later, examining his life, he knew that he could only be honest with himself if he could admit that that fact had finally changed.

But he couldn't say it. He couldn't say the words that he was sure of in his heart, not out loud, not even to himself. If he did, he knew it would be the end for him. It would seal his fate. He thought of the letter he'd sent back home to Bristol and he knew he had to try for Caroline… for Mary.

It was so fucked up.

He heard a key turn in the door and Mary entered with a huff. The look on her face was worn.

"Is there a problem on deck?" he asked, retying his string of bead and bone around his neck.

She leaned against a beam, arms crossed. "You'd know if you were up there. You've been hiding away all day, mate."

Edward cocked his head. "Aye. But it's hardly noon."

Mary shook her head. "Past that. You slept late. Have you eaten yet?" Edward frowned. She had her answer. With a sigh she stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, urging him up. "You've got to stay sharp, Kenway. We've Spaniards to kill."

He hung his head. She was right. He wasn't being a captain, or an Assassin, or even a productive pirate. He was locked in his cabin worrying about women like nervous little boy. And if he wasn't ready when they caught up with Torres… Well, there was a lot more at stake than just the wellbeing of those he loved. When he looked back up, she was giving him the patient 'I'm ready whenever you're done with your bullshit' look that had been picking away at his conscience since the advent of their friendship.

With a heavy sigh, he stood. "When will you finally be satisfied with being right?" He marveled sometimes at how whole conversations could pass between them with just a few sentences and an expression or two these days.

She tossed him an affectionate smirk. "When you stop being wrong. Get to the helm. You're the only one who knows quiet where we're going."

* * *

The sun's rays were giving way to dusk when they slid into the mouth of Long Bay. Torres' ship sat seemingly abandoned along the shoreline. Mary gave the signal for the Jackdaw to slow to halt and find what cover they could in the creeping fog, taking no chances. She and Edward stood at starboard, scanning the beach with their heightened senses.

"It's too quiet, Edward," Mary murmured. "No one thing stands out, but then…"

Kenway nodded. "But then, it all does. It's as though the jungle itself has turned hostile." He looked over at her and her eyes were waiting to meet his.

"Is your head on straight?" she asked. He'd been erratic since they'd kissed, there was no denying that. But that day of all days, he would prove her right for those years of thankless faith she'd placed in him.

As his answer, he pulled the crystal skull out of his coat and held it out between them. After a thoughtful pause he responded. "Torres is out there right now, hunting for this. The violence he'd cause with this thing… It would be subtle, but heavy. Deadly, yet leaving no mark. He won't get his hands on it."

Mary placed her hand on the artifact, and the conviction in her eyes mirrored what he felt in his heart. "We'll be sure to let him know we have it, just before he dies." The corners of her mouth pulled up with mischief.

He smirked. He knew in his heart that the Spaniard felt just as assured in his notions as the Assassins did. The old cockrobin must believe his path was for the good of the many. And the knowledge that his enemies had won would put a look on his face that Edward wanted so desperately to see before ridding the seas of his menace. His ideology was based on subjugation and greed; two things that had taken Edward half a lifetime to escape, two things that the Assassin's Creed had liberated him from.

He passed the skull to Mary. This woman had given him everything he was, and he would give her this. The day's victory belonged to her. She had lost far more to Torres than anyone. Revenge was her right.

She smiled and tucked the artifact in her coat. "Ready?"

He patted her shoulder. "Let's finish this." He led the way to the prow of the ship and leaped onto the hand railing, perched to dive.

Mary sprang to his side. "So will you go ashore, or will I swim you there myself?" she quipped before pushing off the ship and cutting headfirst into the still water.

Edward sprang after her, and the cold water slapped him in the face like having a row with an old friend. He pushed his way toward the trees, scanning the beach once more when his feet touched sand. Nothing moved in the Light of Life.

Mary shook out her coat. "Perhaps it's just my waterlogged clothes, but there's a chill in the air I don't like. And a stillness. Torres couldn't spare any men to guard the bay?"

"They'll all be deep in the jungle," he responded. "When you see what I've seen here, you'll know he's likely undermanned. Come on. We may already be too late to stop whatever he's planning."

The pair ran along the cliff face until they found the path into the trees. It wound around boulders for a few hundred meters until it opened up into a clearing with a river running through. Recognizing the way forward, Edward leaned into his sprint, but Mary grabbed his arm and stopped him short.

"Soldiers," she hissed under her breath. "Just there."

They paused on a rocky overhang and he saw that she was right. They'd found Torres' men. A gunshot rang out and a body slumped over at the patrol's feet. Edward recognized it as one of the native folk he'd encountered on his first visit.

At his side, he felt Mary tense with anger. Without warning, she leaped forward into the trees and swung her way across the branches until she was crashing down into the troops like a spirit of vengeance. Kenway lurched forward, down into the ravine, and arrived at her side as she was cutting the last of her enemies' throats. When she stood, her furious posture relaxed into one of tender mourning. She moved to the fallen native's side and closed his wide, glassy eyes to the world.

"A great shame it came to this," she murmured. "They were only protecting their heritage."

Edward approached cautiously. "You seem to know something about these men that I do not. What heritage? I'd assumed they were simple inhabitants of the island."

Mary spoke without facing him. Her voice was somber, carrying the weight of centuries of Assassin lore. "I know only stories. They live in these jungles, and they don't fancy us stomping about here. They're said to be the guardians of the Observatory. Their tribe has been watching over it as long as it's been here. Longer than the memory of man. It's a task set to them by the Precursors themselves. I wasn't sure if they were real or just part of the legend, but their presence has protected secrets beyond the Assassins' control for an age… Until Torres wipes them out."

Edward put a hand on her shoulder. "He won't have the chance."

Mary sighed heavily and stood, renewed purpose in her eyes. "There'll be more of them as we get closer to the Observatory, and with the threat the Spaniards brought, they won't welcome us. Avoid them if you can. And save the ones that need saving."

He nodded, and they continued down the path. They passed more signs of struggle, bodies belonging to both sides. One Spanish soldier was pinned to a tree, his corpse limp and still seeping blood.

"Jaysus, would you look at all this?" Mary muttered.

"They brought every ounce of menace they had…" The scene bewildered Edward. He had seen more than his share of carnage, but this desperate grappling for something bigger than each life lost was beyond the scope of anything he'd witnessed before.

They trudged forward, trying to ignore the scene around them and stay focused. More shots rang out in the still of the night, echoing off the stone walls around them. They passed a waterfall, and beneath it a guardian lay rolling in agony next to a soldier's dead body. Edward crouched by him, and his eyes were pleading. But not for help. His heart heavy, Kenway obligingly slit the dying man's throat. Peace settled in his eyes as he choked on his own blood before going silent.

They moved on, into another clearing littered with bodies. They stepped over more than one as they moved between platforms scaffolded into the canopy. In the swamp below, the crocodiles were fighting their own war over their territory. They watched one soldier get snatched from the riverbanks, and sections of the water were running a morbid shade of pink from other meals they'd captured.

As they left the jungle and headed back toward another beach, the air started to get thicker and the sky started to glow. Mary looked at Edward with wild eyes. " _Fire,"_ she mouthed. She pulled the bandana from her hair and tied it over her airways before taking off across the beach. Her boots tore up sand in her wake. Edward followed, trying not to cough on the smoke. The cloud was thick, but he could just see his partner sneaking across a small inlet. On the other side, a raised hut was spitting flames and pouring a black cloud into the sky. The air radiated in red.

Mary crouched at the edge of the water and pulled out her blow pipe before deftly sinking a dart into the neck of a soldier. The rifleman wavered on his feet before collapsing, alarming his patrol mates. Edward tore past Mary and into their midst, taking advantage of their surprise to make quick work of their demise. The two of them rushed to the captives, who watched the whole scene with frightened, skeptical gazes. They flinched backward when Mary engaged her blades, but she held out a hand in a cautious, unthreatening gesture as she reached for their bonds with the other. She cut them loose, and they gave each other tentative glances before nodding their thanks and running off across the beach.

Edward gestured to Mary that they should head back toward the jungle while he coughed against the heat and smoke. She pulled off her bandana and handed it to him, leading him by the hand back along the inlet between two cliff faces while he drew a clean breath and cleared his lungs. They paused there in the pool for a moment, out of the fire's reach, coughing and regaining their bearings.

Mary's senses picked something up then. "Shh," she hissed, covering his mouth as he wheezed. "There's Spaniards up ahead."

They climbed the small slope adjacent to the pool and found themselves standing in a sort of cave. The body of a guardian was splayed at the ledge, and when they stopped to inspect it they noticed two soldiers passing beneath, guarding a pair of natives. Mary gave the signal and they dropped on them together, taking them out quietly. They cut loose the captives, who fled back into the woodwork of the jungle much like the first pair.

Continuing down along the cave, they clawed their way up a support beam back to the ledges where they'd have a better vantage point. The guardians were clearly as agile as the Assassins were known to be, as much of the way around the cave required crossing narrow beams or swinging between poles extending from the walls. As such, Edward wasn't expecting the guard he almost mowed down as he turned a corner. Recovering from his startle before the soldier did, he dispatched his foe and knocked the body down into the cave before he could raise the alarm. Kenway and Mary ducked quickly into some bushes, where they could see two riflemen standing at the end of a small tunnel, guns aimed at more guardians. Two more guards were roaming the area. They pulled the first into the bushes with them when he got too close, and Mary ran down the second while Edward snuck up behind the riflemen and dug his blades into the spines of each simultaneously. They freed the three prisoners before returning to the bodies to loot for ammo.

"That could be the last of them," Edward called to Mary as he finished patting down his victims. "If memory serves, our prize is just past the next clearing." He nodded to the path out of the cave.

She got an apprehensive look in her eye. "Good. I'm ready to find out what's caused all the fuss of the past seven years."

The two of them rose from their kills and set off again through the tight corridor. They pushed through the ferns and stepped over more guardian corpses. Soon they came to the exit of the cave, which overlooked a small swamp. In the middle, a cluster of unnaturally square stone surfaces marked the first hints of Precursor influence on the jungle.

"This way," he bade her down the slope to their left.

It was only when their boots hit the water that the stones started to move.

The Assassins ground back on their heels hard, coming to a quick and startled stop. Mary looked at Edward with wide eyes. "Were you expecting that?" she asked. She so rarely had to look to him for guidance, but she was off her footing in this environment. No number of years of stories could prepare someone for the Observatory's secrets.

Of all the First Civilization magic he had seen, this was far from the wildest, but it was still surprising. He shook his head and responded, his tone terse, "Torres must have awoken something. Don't get distracted. We'll ponder when all this is finished."

The pair plugged on, skirting the magic pillars rising from and receding into the ground. They climbed out of the swamp and up the ravine on the other side. One last stint through a jungle corridor, over a few mossy logs, through the pool at the bottom of a waterfall, and they finally came to the too-perfect, too-large, black stone steps that Edward recognized as the signal of their arrival. They were both hesitant to climb them, lest any begin moving like the ones in the swamp. But when they did…

"Bloody hell…" Mary whispered, her breath taken from her in an isolated moment of awe amongst the pressure of their mission. "So this is what you've been on about since Havana."

"Aye," he confirmed, solemn in his remembrance of the wreckage he'd caused since that week.

Their eyes rested on the door at the same time. Though they'd predicted it, they were both dismayed to find it already gaping open. They darted forward, dodging more moving pillars.

The entry tunnel was empty, but a low, menacing humming emanated from deep within.

Edward turned to face his partner. "I suppose there's no point in asking you to stand watch?"

Mary gave a half-hearted laugh, though he could sense the foreboding it masked. "Funny, Kenway. I was going to ask you the same."

She led the way into the corridor. Edward could never quite shake the smell of this place. It smelled musky, as all old places did, but there was something… almost metallic behind it that reminded him of only one other thing: blood.

And perhaps, this time, he was smelling blood. They hadn't gone more than ten meters when they heard the screaming. Indiscernible cries in Spanish made them double their pace, rounding two corners before they saw a man, running back toward them. Before they could call out to him, a bright curtain of what Edward could only describe as light erupted from the walls. The solder was engulfed in flames, and when Kenway blinked, he was gone without a trace.

The Assassins were frozen. Never mind that the walls were glowing with strange lines and runes. Never mind that, beyond their corridor, giant pillars were moving through a chasm of their own volition. A man had just been obliterated in a heartbeat, by the Observatory itself.

They were jarred from their shock a moment later when blocks began to rise up out of the chasm in front of the hallway. "Move!" Mary shouted, sprinting forward and flinging herself on top of one as it creeped upward. Edward followed closely, saying a tiny prayer of thanks that the walls didn't disintegrate them on the same spot as the Spaniard.

The blocks formed almost a staircase the let them onto a large, long stone that was oscillating left and right across the cavernous room. Two templar soldiers were already on top, crouched over a third that Edward understood as screaming about his legs. Their presence didn't go unnoticed. The two able bodied soldiers drew their weapons and attacked, their eyes wild with fear. One got a knife to the belly and the other was thrown into the abyss. Their friend cowered as Edward and Mary finished their kills, scooting back toward the edge of the stone and begging frantically for his life. But his legs, clearly, were doing him only harm. Edward felt a twinge of sympathy for this one, but as he dug his blade into the man's heart he knew it was a mercy killing.

The stone shifted harshly underneath him back in the other direction, almost throwing him off the edge. Mary caught his arm and stabilized him.

"Now what?" he asked, gesturing at the doorway on the far side of the room, a direction that their stone was clearly not moving.

"You always forget to look up," Mary scolded, her pointing hand leading his eyes toward the sky. Way up near the ceiling, broken beams hung in what could almost be called rafters.

But if they wanted to get up there, they had to move fast. "This way!" he called, leaping from the stone just as it reached the apex of its rightward motion. He gripped a cutout ledge in one of the stone slabs on the wall, and Mary joined him just as he got his bearings. The slabs were oscillating independently from one another, and they managed to jump between them to climb up into a platform near the top of the leftmost one. As it rose again, it came to the height of the rafters. He jumped first, and waited for her to join him on the next oscillation. From there he took the lead, leaping between the broken beams. The beams were precariously narrow, and he eagerly took the last jump to the relative safety of the wide platform hanging high above the doorway.

"Edward, no!" Mary screamed when his first foot had already left the beam. He saw what she saw just when it was too late: cracks running across the base of the platform.

He gripped the edge, determined not to fall, but the force of his impact was too much for the stonework and the entire platform began to swing down on its crumbling axis. Panicked, Mary jumped after him, grabbing onto his legs as she fell. He felt a sharp jerk as she hit him and his grip slipped just before the platform collided with the wall. They fell, far and hard. The landing left them in a heap on the floor, both too pained and dazed to move for a moment. Eventually, Edward regained the wherewithal to roll over – groaning in agony as he did – to make sure he hadn't landed on Mary. He sat up to see her still on her stomach, but pushed up onto her elbows. She winced hard when she brought her fingers to touch the bleeding gash on her forehead where he could only assume she'd been stuck by his boot.

He wheezed, struggling to get back the air that had been knocked out of him. His arm stung and he could feel hot blood running from a where he must have been cut by a sharp rock. "Are you all right?" he choked out.

She nodded wordlessly as she pulled herself into a kneeling position. Her bandana had been knocked almost out of her hair when he kicked her. She took a moment to right it, pressing it tight over her wound, and then stood. She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet, and they continued through the towering doorway, both moving quickly to work out the burgeoning limps that threatened to hamper them.

The ground beneath them began to rumble violently as they neared the observation room. Whatever Torres had awoken, now he had angered it too.

When they reached the main chamber, they could see what was creating the disturbance. Three rays of light were shooting up from the floor, radiating out in a circle. Soldiers stood, terrified, in each of the three safe zones, none going near the light for fear of disintegrating. Beyond them, Torres stood at the armillary sphere on a platform receding away from the rest of the room. They would have to find a way to get to him, but first they would have to get past the small army he had brought with him.

Fortunately, the troops were all so distracted by the Observatory's defenses that Mary and Edward had taken out the two closest to them before anyone else noticed they were there. Unfortunately, they all noticed at the same time that the light barriers came down.

Mary gave the signal to split up. She dove into the patrol to their right while he took the left. Almost immediately, the barriers shot back up around Mary's sector, cutting her off from him. A guard straddling the line went up in flames just as fast and vanished. Edward realized that, dangerous as these defenses were, they could maybe use them to their advantage. He parried his present opponent, sending the energy of their attack off to the side so that he could grab the man's collar and follow that momentum through, hurtling him into the barrier. It worked. His opponent fell through the light, but no part of him made it to the other side. All his other enemies took a step back, worried by the pirate's new revelation. He could only marvel at this for a moment though before the barriers came down again and he saw that Mary was outnumbered. He jumped to her side, minding the pulsing lines in the ground, and pulled the soldier closest to him off her, running his sword through the man's spine. Mary took the chance to knock the other off his balance and swept his legs out from under him. He fell on the lines just as the barriers re-engaged. The light tore him right down the middle and both halves lit up and were gone before he could let out a scream.

The remaining two soldiers were in the sector blocked off by the light, and all they could do was wait for the barrier to come back down. When it did, the Assassins charged. Edward and his opponent crashed into each other, swords grating on one another, blow after blow. The duel was over quickly, though, as Edward managed to get a fatal cut in with his wristblade when their parrying came too close to the man's neck. When the Templar fell, Kenway looked up to see Mary leaning over the precipice. She'd plowed her opponent straight over the side into the abyss.

He patted her on the back as he ran for the rapidly shifting stones leading toward the far side of the chamber. "Let's end this!"

He jumped across the platforms, with her close on his tail. Ahead of them, a fleeing soldier fell on a long stone on the wall. It gave out under him and he fell, screaming, into the chasm. Edward glanced at Mary, hesitant, remembering the rafters in the last room, but it was their only way forward. They leaped together, and the stone fell again under their weight. For a moment, he was sure that they had come all this way only to fall to their deaths, but the stone stopped abruptly short of coming off the wall altogether. They climbed on top of it and assessed their path. The underside of Torres' platform was lined with pipes they could use. Edward swung across first, hitting the last bar as hard as he could. The outside edge snapped under his weight, swinging against the other wall and making a way across for them. Edward climbed onto the glowing panels while Mary swung across and joined him. He scooted along the side until he could find a hand hold to climb up. He jumped for it, and then the next one, and then the wall erupted in light.

He froze. Mary screamed.

Edward's chest clenched in terror. He looked down to see Mary hanging by one hand, clutching the other to her chest. Through the glow of the barrier, he could see her face contorted with pain, eyes clenched, and teeth barred. "Mary!" he shouted.

She pursed her lips, breathing heavy. "My hand, Edward! I can't climb!"

She opened her eyes to meet his, and their color was distorted by the yellow glow between her and him. But he understood their message. They were out of time. He needed to go on without her.

Everything inside him screamed to get her to safety. Everything except the voice in the back of his head that had been nagging him for nearly a decade. Her voice.

"I'll come back for you!" he shouted, fervor lacing the promise like none he'd made before in his life.

"Just go!" she called back as he turned to pull himself along the top of the wall. The barriers shut off again, allowing him to continue to the end where he hauled himself onto a platform. Thoughts of worry and guilt bore down on his mind, intruding on his focus. The barrier came on again, and he shut them all completely from his mind. He couldn't risk this mission. They were too close. They were out of time. He needed to go on without her.

He jumped to a steady stone, and then the rising one beyond that. When that stone rose to its peak, he could just barely reach a handhold on a pillar jutting down from the ceiling. He jumped for it.

"We could have worked together, Edward." He heard Torres' voice above the din of the Observatory's anger. "We could have taken power for ourselves, and brought these miserable empires to their knees!"

He clawed his way around the pillar, and finally onto a beam that spanned the air above Torres' platform. The pillar shifted backward, away from the Spaniard, and Edward nearly lost his footing. "There is so much potential in you," Torres continued. "So much you have not yet accomplished! I could show you things. Mysteries beyond any that you could imagine!" But Edward wasn't listening. He was planning his attack. A curtain of light protected Torres for now, but the pillars were moving closer again, and the barriers only lasted so long. He cast a glace at the wall to check on Mary.

She wasn't there. She wasn't where he'd left her.

Panic rose within him. He couldn't see her. Could she have moved? Had she fallen? Had he lost her? No, he couldn't lose her. She'd promised. He'd promised.

The barriers vanished then. Emotional, angry, Edward jumped.

He crashed into Torres ungracefully. His blow landed in the old man's shoulder, off mark. They both fell to the ground.

Torres groaned, mouth agape, as he clutched the jagged wound above his collarbone. "Captain Kenway," he grunted with a rough laugh as they both lay on their backs. "Ever a splinter in my side. You think my murder would fulfill you?" The Grand Master rolled upright and pinned Kenway with a knee and his free hand.

Edward tensed, frantically thinking through a second attack. "I'm only seeing a job done, Torres. As you'd have done with me."

Torres smirked, a look on his face like a taunting peacock. "As we have done, I think," he countered. "You have no family any more. No friends, no future. Your losses are far greater than ours."

Just as that thought settled over Edward, and he began to think he might agree, an angel of death appeared.

Mary was perched on the beam by the ceiling, _Venganza_ 's ruby hilt glittering in the light. Her hair was cast around her face, and the set of her mouth was grim and determined. She was waiting for the barrier to dissipate. Waiting for her chance. Waiting for her kill. She saw him see her and made a gesture to her left.

"That's where you're wrong, mate," Edward spit back at the Grand Master. "Because you missed one."

The barrier vanished and Edward pushed with all his strength, throwing Torres to his right. Mary flew down from the heavens, driving _Venganza_ deep into the Templar's abdomen. The knife had finally lived up to its name.

They stood over Torres, together, and faced down the end of their trials.

Torres stared back at them with bewilderment and resignation.

"Aye, we've lost much at the hands of the Templars," Mary started.

"But your death rights a far greater wrong than ever I did," Edward finished.

Torres nodded thoughtfully. "You honestly believe that?"

Edward felt a familiar fire in his veins. For most of his life it had signaled a passion for the sea, victory, and gold. But these days it meant something more: a passion for his Creed, for his way of life, and those he shared it with. "You would see all of mankind corralled into a neatly furnished prison, safe and sober, yet dulled beyond reason and sapped of all spirit. So, aye… with everything I've seen and learned in these last years, I do believe it."

Torres listened to his speech with a quietness of mind and voice. With the last of his strength he turned to Mary. "I don't know where your child is, but you'll find the man who does in Havana. I know you believe great evils of me, but I bear no ill will against innocent children." His eyes shifted back to Edward, and there was a look there that the pirate hadn't believed possible. Respect. "You wear your convictions well. They suit you."

With a final breath, Torres' head rolled back. The last of the Templars' power in the West Indies died with him.

Mary pulled the skull from her coat and passed it to Edward. The fingers of her right hand were wrapped in her bandana, which left streaks of blood on its crystal surface. He grasped her hand gently and unwrapped it to assess the damage. Half of her pinky finger and the top third of her ring finger were missing. He looked her in the eye, incredulous. "And yet, you found a way."

"I had this terrible feeling you'd end up needing me," she smirked.

 _More than you'll ever know._ He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her blood-caked forehead. "Let's put this mess to bed." He turned to the armillary sphere. For all the years he'd spent searching for the skull, the feeling of returning it was far more gratifying than any treasure.

The earth stopped shaking. Light rays stopped radiating from the cracks in the structure. The sphere's platform returned to its original position in the center of the room where Ah Tabai and Adéwalé stood in wait. The Observatory was appeased.

"Torres awakened something fierce," Edward called to their mentor. "Are we safe?"

Ah Tabai nodded. "With the device returned, I believe so."

Mary descended the steps to greet their brothers. "Adé, remind me what you call this place."

Adéwalé laughed. "Captain Kenway's Folly!" he called back.

Edward shrugged with a sly smile. Folly, indeed. But oh, how he missed his old friend.

Ah Tabai approached the skull and rested his hand on it, speaking some words in Mayan that Edward did not understand. "We will seal this place, and discard the key," the Mentor announced. "Until another Sage appears, this door will remain locked."

"There were vials when I came here last," Edward remembered. "Filled with the blood of ancient men, Roberts said. But they're gone now."

Ah Tabai nodded, understanding. "Then it's up to us to recover them, before the Templars catch wind of this. You could join us in that cause."

The invitation was not unexpected to Edward, for he knew he had regained his honor in the eyes of the Assassins. But he had yet to join them in full, and the idea of getting that chance excited him. "I will. But…" He cast a glace at Mary and remembered why he had not already. Remembered why he had not done a great many things he would like to do. "Only after I fix what I mangled back home."

Ah Tabai shared a glance with Adé, and then pulled a letter from his satchel. "It arrived last week."

Edward felt his heart sink when his fingers touched the parchment, with what emotion he knew not. He folded and pocketed it. He wanted to be alone when he read it. Or rather, he didn't want Mary reading his face while he read it.

With a somber but resolved last look at Captain Kenway's Folly, the four Assassins turned and left, sealing the door behind them.


	9. I'll Be OK

**Song:** _I'll Be OK_ \- Nothing More

The sun cast beautiful gray and pink lights across Great Inagua's port. The early autumn air was pleasantly cool, and the water lapped gently at the shores below Edward's mansion. Sailors and dancers milled about the town, their voices rising up the cliffs in hushed tones. It was a calm, peaceful evening. The young captain felt out of place in it.

He sat on the patio, tracing the lip of his tankard with his pinky finger. His eyes scanned the piece of parchment sitting on table in front of him for the sixth time, and the words made his vision cloud. He blinked hard against the stinging sensation, and the mist solidified into a tear that rolled down his cheek. With a grunt, irritated at his own weakness, he tossed back the last of the rum in his glass and reached for another bottle, emptying half its contents into his tankard.

Caroline was dead. Rose, a member of the Scott family staff whom he'd always been fond of, had penned the letter. He'd fallen too far out of favor with his wife's parents for either of them to bother themselves with responding to him with the news. She had caught smallpox and passed away two years earlier. All this time he'd been worrying about transforming his life, being the man she deserved, but he'd been too late from the very start.

It had all been for nothing. The past year had been for nothing if he hadn't been doing it for her. His efforts were worthless.

He felt worthless. The drink had numbed every sensation, bar that one. That one, it let riddle him.

To his left he heard footsteps on the stairs. Mary's boots clicked against the stone steps, and he turned to find a concerned look on her face. He ground his teeth and turned away, quickly folding the letter and shoving it in his pocket.

"Can I join you?" she asked. There was a tentative tone to her voice, which was a rare emotion for such an assertive woman.

With a heavy sigh, he nodded and waved a hand toward the seat across from him. She ignored his gesture and settled at his side. "So have you read it yet?"

"Aye." His voice was ragged with emotion, and the tears threatened to spring forth once again. He hadn't wanted to read it on the ship with her and their crew watching. He'd waited until they had arrived in his cove that morning, when he could finally be alone. She'd left him to it all day, though he knew she must have been worried when he never came to find her to discuss its contents.

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but her touch only made the torrent in his chest swell with guilt. "And? What news of home?" And after a after a long pause, "What news of your wife?"

The lump in his throat became nearly unbearable. He gruffly shook off her hand and turned his head away. At his side, he could feel her bristle defensively. "Talking about it will help nothing. Fix nothing."

"Edward, I'm your best mate, am I not?" Her tone was concerned, but slightly aggressive. He'd offended her, he knew that, but he didn't have room in his head to worry about what strain he could be putting on their already-taxed relationship. "You shouldn't sit on this alone. If you can't tell me then who can you tell?"

He whipped his head around to face her, and his voice came out as a low growl. "I can't. I can't tell anyone, Mary, that's the bloody _fucking_ problem. All my friends are dead. My fucking wife is _dead_ , and it's _my_ fault." His voice grew closer to a shout with every word. He shoved his chair back from the table, the wood grating uncomfortably loud against the stone tiles, and he stood sharply.

She was taken aback by the news. Mary's expression softened and she opened her mouth to speak, words of condolence, he assumed, but he cut her off.

"And you," he shouted. "You're not my best mate. You never were just that, Mary, and you know why. Do you know how it eats me up inside that I've wasted my life here with you when I should have been at home, in Bristol, protecting Caroline? Taking care of Caroline?"

That made her angry. He'd crossed a line. She leaped to her feet and was in his face in a second, spitting right back. "Wasted on _me_? I'm not your fucking gold, Kenway! I'm no prize to be fought for or to be won. I have never needed you. You're not protecting me. I do that myself, and I always have. I don't need your 'care'. If you need a woman to make you feel needed then aye, you should have never left home. You shouldn't have been out here, building yourself up, and for what? For her? It was never about your wife, never about me. You need to get your story straight with yourself before you start blaming those who have wasted years of their energy trying to get you on the right path before you destroy everyone else around you."

The fire, the anger, the hurt in her eyes quelled the rage he felt, but her words reignited it and flipped it right back around onto himself. "A great lot of good your efforts have wrought then. Destroy, I have done indeed. You'd best run back to Tulum before I tear you off the face of this earth too. My final failure." He snatched his tankard off the table, knocking over the pile empty bottles, and stalked toward the house.

"Don't you get it, Kenway?" Mary shouted after him. "I'm here for _you_. When I got sick, I could have easily given in, but I didn't." She got up from the table and chased after him, grabbing his arm so he had to turn and look at her. "I stayed because I wasn't ready to give up on you. I stayed because I had _faith_ that you could be someone great. Someone who helps instead of harms."

"Yeah?" Edward countered. "How can you believe that, Mary? You can see the corpses as well as I, littered at my feet wherever I walk. Time and time again I've proved you wrong, at every damned turn. When are you going to get it? You are _wrong_ about me."

Her grip on his arm loosened. "Belief is not about seeing, Edward. Your actions in the past year have saved a dozen lives for every one you have cost in all the years before. You couldn't save her. You can't save them all. But I have too many reasons not to give up on you. So don't give up on yourself."

In that moment, Edward surrendered himself to his emotions. He sank to the ground, leaning on a beam, and began to quietly weep. "All of this," he mumbled. "All of this was supposed to be for her. This house, my gold, my new life… I wanted to be the husband she deserved. So what am I fighting for now?" He searched her eyes, silently begging for her to give him answers. Meaning.

She shook her head in response, crouching at his side.. "Don't do it for her. Don't do it for the Creed. Don't even do it for me. You have to want it for yourself."

Somehow, that was the answer he'd been looking for all his life. He'd done what he'd wanted for most of his life, to the detriment of those who'd loved him most. But he'd wanted the wrong things, destructive things, evil, selfish things. When he'd made the decision to better himself, he was lost, searching for purpose in all the wrong places because, surely, the only way to change was to live for someone else for once.

But that had been the wrong approach. If he was going to do this the right way, if he was going to be everything he knew he could be, he had to follow his own path, be his own man. Just… a better man than before.

He needed to be complete in himself before he could be any good for anyone else.

He reached up and touched her face. She'd been steering him in the right direction as long as he'd known her, but she never did anything for him. She always stepped back and expected him to stand on his own two feet, and he did the same for her. And that's why he loved being with her. She wasn't the other half to his whole. They were two complete people. And, together, they were unstoppable. "I'm sorry I shouted at you," he muttered. "I'm grieving, and I'm angry. But not at you."

She gave him a soft smile. "I know, Edward. And you'll have to forgive yourself for those things eventually, but no one would expect it all to happen at once." She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet.

He pulled her into a hug, needing her comfort. "Be patient with me?"

She let out a dark chuckle. "I think I am, don't you?"

He laughed too. "Not always as I'd like you to be, but that's my fault, not yours." He pulled back to look in her fawn brown eyes, and there was a warmth there that he yearned for. With nerves and emotions running wild through his veins and trembling hands, he finally allowed himself to lean in and softly, tenderly press his lips to hers. She leaned into his embrace and kissed him back with all the affection and care that had been absent from their frustrated tryst that night on the Jackdaw. When they pulled apart, he held her gaze and whispered, "Do you know, I am hopelessly in love with you?"

She smirked. "Of course I do. Just as I know you've no clue I've been in love with you, too."

That took him aback. One of his greatest sources of dissonance for months, the question of her love, and she treated it as obvious. "You have? For how long?"

"Since that speech you gave to your men before invading this cove," she answered. "You remember?"

He chuckled, fighting back a face-splitting grin. "I had no idea it was such a good speech."

She shook her head in mild amusement at his self-flattery. "It was the first real glimpse I saw of the man you could become. The man who wanted more than simple gold and drink, but a life of peace and prosperity for those who placed their safety in his hands. Your men believed in you, and because of them, so did I. I grew to admire you, and then, to love you."

Her words warmed his heart in a way it hadn't been since Ah Tabai had placed the letter in his hands four days earlier. His throat tightened again, with joy instead of grief this time. "I hope I can honor the faith you place in me." His voice shook.

She leaned in and kissed him again. "You already have, ever since I wrote to you last year. The man you were would never have come without an explanation or incentive. But you took a chance on nothing."

He looked at the brave, fearsome, dedicated woman in front of him and he felt small. She knew him so completely that he felt naked under her gaze, vulnerable and unable to hide any part of himself from her. For all his mistakes, for all his shortcomings and failures, she saw him for what he was, and somehow still deemed him worthy to stand at her side. It was for that reason that he knew he had to trust her above even himself. He knew no one with clearer sight than her.

* * *

Edward awoke early the next morning. Soft, gray light streamed through the gap in the curtains, signaling the first hints of sunrise. As he came to, he realized gladly that his headache was only minor, in spite of all the drinking and crying he'd done the day before.

He looked to his right and blinked until his eyes could focus on Mary's sleeping form. Her hair was down, cast across her shoulders and back which were turned to him. He reached out to trace the line of her boyish figure under the covers. He didn't want to wake her, but he needed reassurance that he wasn't still dreaming.

They hadn't made love that night. He'd always imagined that when he could finally have her the way he'd dreamed he wouldn't waste any time making her his in every earthly way. But it hadn't been like that. They'd stayed up late into the night, talking about Caroline, and of Bristol. He told her about his parents, whom he missed dearly. His father had passed some years ago, but he hoped one day his mother, Lisette, would be able to meet her. He wondered what his mother would think of his choice in partner, if they lasted that long together. Caroline had been exactly the kind of woman they'd predicted he'd marry: intelligent, sharp-tongued, elegant. Mary was the first two things, undoubtedly, but she challenged the third with her habits for piracy and murder. Edward considered it important for love to be born of common ground, but he doubted his mother would understand or approve of their bonding over such things.

He swung he legs over the side of the bed and made for his study. On his way through he snatched a biscuit off the dining table that was left uneaten from the previous night's supper and munched on it lazily, leaning against his desk and watching the sun creep over the horizon. Color spilled into the cove.

When the sun sat about a finger's-width above the sea, footsteps from behind him announced Mary's entrance. She perched on the desk beside him and took the biscuit from his hands, breaking off half for herself before handing it back. "Morning," she whispered peacefully, rubbing the small of his back with her free hand.

"You're up early," he commented, leaning his head against her shoulder.

"You roused me getting out of bed. Couldn't get back to sleep."

"I suppose we're going to have to adjust to sharing a bed," he remarked hopefully.

She sighed. "In due time. I'm quite fond of my little cabin on the cliff."

"Oh?" he questioned, glancing up at her. "More fond than you are of me?"

She smirked. "Depends."

"On?"

"How much you irk me on a given day." She placed a small kiss on his forehead.

"Ah, so your love for me is changeable then."

"I don't have to like you to love you, mate."

He chuckled softly. "Suppose I'll have to up my game, then." He placed a hand on her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

"I suppose you will," she agreed with a light smile before their lips connected.

They sat there watching the sunrise and eating their breakfast until it was too light outside to be considered dawn anymore.

Mary turned to him after a long few minutes of silence. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, the sadness beginning to swell back up in him. "Aye,"

"And you've picked a place?"

"Aye." He straightened himself and she slipped off the desk. He lifted a small wooden box from a shelf as they exited into the main house and then out into the gardens. The dirt crunched softly under their bare feet as they trudged up the slope on the western side to the highest point of the yard. Together, they lifted the table there and moved it to a lower tier of earth. Edward relocated the chairs while Mary ran down to the shed to retrieve shovels

The view from the spot he'd picked was beautiful. To the left sat the waterwheel atop a lightly bubbling creek. Facing front were the gardens and house spanned out before him. At to the right, just a glimpse of the sea.

Mary returned, handing him a spade, and they set about digging a hole roughly half a meter deep.

From his pockets, he procured every letter that Caroline had written him since he'd left for the West Indies. Twenty-seven letters over the course of ten years, including the last from Rose. They'd only been married for a few months the last time he'd seen her. By all rights, he'd hardly known her.

"I'll leave you to it," Mary brushed his shoulder with her hand as she passed, taking the shovels back to the garden shed.

Edward knelt and opened the box he'd brought outside with them. He removed the key from inside and gently replaced it with the pile of letters. He'd read through them all one last time the previous night with Mary. The ink was fading badly in the oldest few, the parchment deteriorating with the years just as his marriage had. The gaps between the dates on each grew larger and larger with each letter as their correspondence became strained and unfamiliar.

He locked the box and lowered it into the earth.

For a long time, he sat and stared at the hole. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what he could say to Caroline in death that would absolve his sins against her in life.

Finally he sighed, and spoke what he was thinking in spite of the reaction he imagined she might have. "Two years. I promised you two years, and it turned into ten. I often wonder if I should have let you marry that hotheaded son of a merchant that your father had picked out for you. I know you disparaged the thought of attaching yourself to him, and I loved you for having the bravery to follow your heart. I wanted more for you than that, though. My love was enough for you, and I didn't listen. I never listened." The tears were flowing freely by that point. "I hope you lived in love. I hope you found the happiness that I was never content enough to give you. I'm sorry I didn't come home to you all those times you pleaded with me to leave this life behind." He grabbed a fistful of dirt and tossed it on top of the box. "I wasn't there to bury you, but now I bury the record of my failures on your behalf. I'm becoming the man you wanted me to be, a satisfied, respectable man. I hope you've found a lasting peace, down among the dead."

He set about pushing the rest of the dirt back into the hole. To his right, Mary returned, carrying a large circle of wood in her hands.

"Do you mind?" she asked softly.

He shook his head and wiped away a tear, smearing his face with dirt. "Please, come." He waved her closer. "What do you have there?'

She passed the object to him. "We can make a more permanent marker, but I figured she needed something to start with."

She'd handed him the top of a barstool. Puzzled, he flipped it over and, realizing what it was, began to laugh.

_Caroline Scott-Kenway_

_Beloved Wife_

_1691-1720_

"You broke a chair to make my wife a headstone?" he asked her between sad giggles.

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Just until we can have a proper one fixed."

He did his best to wedge the wooden circle into the small mound of dirt and then stood. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she draped hers over his shoulder. "You're a wonder, Mary Read."

"And you're a good man, Edward Kenway." She nodded at the stool top. "I know she saw that as well as I."

He took her hand. "Come on. Let's get this dirt cleaned off us."


	10. Antichrist

**Song:** _Antichrist -_ The 1975

A month passed, and things changed on the island. After a very brief discussion with Mary during which they both immediately agreed on their course of action – a somewhat rare occurrence – Edward had extended an invitation to the Brotherhood to move their temporary base of operations to Great Inagua so that they could gather their bearings. Tulum was no longer safe, thanks to his own past errors. The first boatload of Assassins had arrived early that October morning, though most remained in the Yucatan until the details of their stay could be sorted. This would be their best chance of rebuilding the local Order to its former glory, back before he stuck his neck into the mix of things.

After settling some of his guests into their houses by the bay, Edward made his way back to the main house. He climbed the long stone staircase as was met with a sight that warmed his heart. Mary was seated at the table on the patio outside, drinking with some of their men as well as some of her old friends in the brotherhood. She was wearing her usual disguise as James Kidd. Though the Assassins were clued into her true identity, it was still best that the crew remain in the dark. All in the know had been warned to stay tight-lipped about it. Her eyes caught his and he could see the smile in them that she kept from the rest of the world at the sight of him. He clapped her on the shoulder as he passed on his way to speak to Ah Tabai and Adéwalé, who were leaning on the banister as they surveyed their new home. It was a pleasure to see them both, especially his old quartermaster and friend.

"Gentlemen," Edward greeted his old friends. "How do you find it here?"

"It will work for us," Ah Tabai answered confidently. "But our goal must be to scatter our operations. To live and work among the people we protect, just as Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad once counseled."

Edward smiled and nodded. Mary had told him some about this Altaïr, a greatly respected forefather of their Order. He sounded like a wise man, one to be followed. Besides, Kenway had always found the bureaus… charming. The West Indies could benefit from more of them. "Well until that time comes, it's yours as you see fit."

Ah Tabai nodded gratefully, and as Edward was about to turn away, Adé injected, "Edward… Captain Woodes Rogers survived his wounds. He has since returned to England… shamed and in great debt, but no less a threat."

That came as a shock. That particular target's end in Kingston had seemed rather… final. What a disappointment. And an irritation. He nodded understandingly to his former quartermaster. "I will finish that job when I eventually return. You have my word." He parted then from his friends, perturbed by that news.

He strode over to the table and seated himself by his new quartermaster. "Evening, Kidd," he greeted her.

She smiled and set down her bottle. "Kenway," she returned.

He sat quietly for a moment, nervous to speak. The rest of the table seemed drunk and distracted, but he signaled for her to follow him to the garden anyway. They stood, and he took her hand as soon as they were around the corner and out of sight of their crew. They settled on a bench beneath the study window that looked out onto the grounds.

"What is it, Edward?" she asked, a puzzled expression gracing her face.

"Rogers," he grunted. "He's alive."

Mary let out a frustrated growl, and her gaze bore into the ground. "Blast. I swore we had him. How did he escape?"

"That young couple that discovered us must have gotten there just moments too soon." He hesitated to speak his true intentions. He hadn't discussed this next step with her. The future. "Regardless, I've told the Mentor I'd take care of it… In London."

Mary turned back to him, a small light of anger in her eyes. "You're leaving?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Eventually, yes. That was always the plan. I… I'd be a hopeful man if you'd come with me."

Sadness washed across her face and his heart sank into his boots. "Edward… I can't. Not yet. I have business here. Rebuilding the Order. My daughter… I'm needed here."

Edward nodded slowly, conflicted but understanding. He tried to swallow down his emotions. He couldn't have her making her choices for his benefit. If she were ever to join him in England, he needed her to want it for herself. "And you're needed with me, too. I won't leave your side again, not if I can avoid it. Your business is mine as well."

Mary looked confused again. "So you're staying?"

He squeezed her hand too. "Your daughter is my first priority now. I won't go anywhere unless I can take you with me, and I would never ask you to leave without her."

She leaned in and kissed him. "Thank you, Edward. Give me a year. I'll find her in that time, and next October we'll sail for a new life in London."

Joy swelled in his chest. He could see it, the life he'd always dreamed of. A comfortable life, influence, purpose, a strong woman by his side. For so many years he thought he'd have that in Great Inagua with Caroline. It was so different from the life that lay ahead of him, with Mary and the London Brotherhood.

He could wait a year to have that.

An image stuck him and he laughed. "How are we ever going to fit you into London society if we can't get you in a dress?" He thought back to their raid on Kingston, and how she'd hated the green gown she'd robbed Cortessa Ferraro of, along with her life.

She chuckled too. "Oh, how the women will gossip. Tessa Kenway, with her scars and trousers…"

His heart skipped. He hadn't imagined she'd contemplated their future the way he had. "You… You'd take my last name?"

Her expression dropped when she realized what she'd said, but she recovered just as fast. "Well, wait and see where we're at next year. But right now, I don't want to be without you. So don't make me change my mind…" she jabbed at him teasingly. "and we'll talk about this in more detail when the time comes."

He grinned broadly, his happiness threatening to choke him. "A year then. Deal."

"Deal," she agreed, sealing it with a kiss before leading him back to their friends.

"Sail ho!" a crewman shouted from the banister. "Coming into the port!"

The pair exchanged confused glances and darted forward. Indeed, a black flag peaked up from the horizon, bearing the assassin insignia.

"I didn't think we were expecting anyone more today," Edward puzzled.

"We're not," Mary confirmed, making her way toward the path to the port. He followed closely at her heels. They jogged down the hill and through the shanty town. Their footsteps on the dock echoed against the water below, and they paused at the end just as the ship pulled through the mouth of the cove. Her breath caught when she recognized it. "That's Ikal's vessel!"

He gave her a questioning glance, peering back at the ship trying to identify the Mayan man with the crooked nose among the crew on board. "I thought you didn't get along with Ikal."

"Aye, not exactly," she confirmed. "We came to blows on more than one occasion, usually about your involvement with the Order," she gave him a punctuating look to remind him again of all the trouble he'd caused for their brothers over the years. "But he knows the underbelly of Havana better than most."

Edward caught on then. "He's been helping you search for Torres' correspondent."

"Aye." She looked like she wanted to leap into the water and meet the ship halfway.

He placed a hand on her back to keep her in place. Insecurities that he had shoved down and hidden away for months began to resurface. The past few weeks with Mary had been effortless, a dream. Confirming their love for each other had amplified every aspect of their relationship, both the good and the bad. When they fought, they nearly took the roof off the house, but they made up just as quickly and the times of peace and comfort between rows got longer and steadier with each reconciliation. In a way, being with her wasn't much different than commanding the _Jackdaw_ together had been. They came home to each other each night, made decisions as a unit, worked as a team to accomplish shared goals. But getting to be close to her while they did it all, getting to care for her and be cared for in return, it was a gift he didn't take for granted. Their relationship had barely changed, but she'd changed his whole outlook on life. She gave him hope for the future.

He didn't want to think it, and felt guilty for the thought of it crossing his mind, but this child could threaten all that. Her priorities as a parent would supersede her responsibilities to the crew, to the Assassins, to him. He didn't have children, himself, and couldn't possibly understand what it was like to be pulled in that many directions at once, so he was trying to have compassion for her. Besides, the Assassins worked as one in rearing the next generation, teaming up as a village to care for the children of their brothers and sisters so that no man or woman would be restricted in carrying out their duties. He had even done some babysitting during his time training in Tulum the previous year. But this wasn't just Mary's child. It was another man's as well. And he knew better than to hold an innocent girl's parentage against her, but… She should have been his. He was loathe to think himself possessive over Mary's womb, and knew she'd cut his throat without hesitation if he suggested he might be, but he wanted to cut it himself imagining that his mistakes may have cost him this as well, the chance to be that little girl's father. If he'd sorted himself just a year sooner…

More than anything, he feared he wouldn't be able to love this girl. That she would always stand as a representation of the damage he'd wrought in his youth.

If he couldn't, Mary would never forgive him for it. It was just that: unforgivable.

Minutes later, the vessel was docking. No sooner had they tied down than Ikal showed his face, climbing out from below deck. He noticed them and waved in acknowledgement, leaving them to wait in anticipation while he gave orders to his men before joining them on the dock.

The look he gave Edward was only slightly less disgusted than their last meeting at Anne's funeral. "Kenway," he gave a curt nod. "I heard of your victory over Torres. He was a wart on the face of a beautiful city. I'm not sad to see him gone." Not exactly a thank you, but Edward returned the nod in an equally curt fashion. Most of the Brotherhood had warmed to him, but as it turned out some were more icy than others.

Ikal turned then to Mary and procured a letter from his coat. "This is your man. Inside is his name and address. That's all I know. You'll have to go from here on your own."

Mary took the paper and held it almost reverently. "You've done me a great service, brother."

"As you've done the order a great many, sister." He spoke to her with respect, despite their obvious differences of opinion. "If you'll excuse me, I have matters to address with the Mentor. Where can I find him?"

"He should be at the main house," she answered. "We weren't expecting you, but I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you."

Ikal bowed his head politely and excused himself.

Edward released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Well, he wasn't entirely unpleasant."

"I think you'll find most people you disagree with aren't inherently terribly people," Mary countered, but her tone was distant and distracted. She fingered the paper and stared out across the water.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"To open it?" she clarified. "No, I'll wait until we reach Cuba. To be with my daughter? I've been ready since I discovered I was pregnant. To be a mother? I'm not sure…"

"Well there's only one way to answer that last one." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Shall I tell the men to prepare for departure?"

"Aye, if they can be on the water by tomorrow, I'd like to be." She smiled at him and her gaze trailed back toward the horizon, toward Havana. He squeezed her hand and turned to walk away, but she spoke again, stopping him. "We picked names, you know. Me and Anne."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued. "What were they?"

"Anne was so certain she was having a boy," she recalled with a sad smile and a single laugh. "She wouldn't even consider what she might name a girl. She was having a boy and his name would be Haytham. That was that."

"Haytham," Edward smiled too. "I like that name."

"I did too," she agreed, looking over to him with a thoughtful expression.

"What name did you choose, were you to have a boy?"

"Mark." Her tone was sad. "After my late brother."

"A strong name," he affirmed. "But you had a girl. You never told me you'd named her. What did you choose for a daughter?"

She looked back across the water. "I named her Jennifer."


	11. Marked Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually where I started with this fanfiction way back in 2014. When I played through Black Flag the first time, and I started to think how things might have turned out if Mary had lived, everything I knew about her character told me she would tear down cities to find the men who took her daughter. I drafted a really shitty one-shot based on this featured song, and after reading it through a few times to figure out what wasn't working, I realized there were no stakes to her drive or her relationship with Edward without all the backstory I'd dreamed up in my head. That backstory is what I wrote for you all in this story and I'm so happy to have finally reached ground zero after all this time. Enjoy!

**Song:** _Marked Man_ \- Mieka Pauley

Edward woke to the muted bustle of morning chores about the _Jackdaw_. Sunlight wove its way through the grime on the cabin windows, casting long shadows about the room. The gentle lapping of waves against the side of the hull threatened to lull him back to sleep, but he fought the urge. He knew it was time to get up and check in with his crew.

He rolled over to face Mary, who was stretched out on her stomach, arms wrapped around her pillow. She was still very much asleep. He leaned over and brushed her hair out of her face, then pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. "Wake up, my love," he whispered against her warm skin.

She rolled over with a grunt and stretched her limbs wide, kicking back the covers of their makeshift bed on the floor. They hadn't done much sailing since affirming their love for each other, and had left the cove in too great a hurry to arrange a replacement for their cots on opposite sides of the captain's quarters. The first night at sea they'd tried to sleep separately, but they'd become too accustomed to the other's presence to get much rest. In the three nights since then they'd thrown all their bedding and some various bits of cloth from the hold onto the cabin floor in an attempt at a mattress. It was hardly comfortable, but they both found it preferable.

She blinked lazily, finding his eyes in the muted morning light. "What is it now, day five?"

He nodded. "Aye, but if the winds turn favorable we should arrive by dusk." He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

He lips creased into a small frown. "That might be wishful thinking at the rate we've been going." She let out a small sigh and pulled herself up to return the kiss to his cheek. "But we'll get there eventually. I've waited this long. Another day is no matter." Her tone didn't match the relaxed nature of her words, but he knew better than to call her on her contradictions first thing in the morning.

The calm morning seemed out of place for their mission. Mary had been understandably on edge since Ikal's arrival in Great Inagua, but she had better control over her impatience than he might in her position. His own worries and insecurities had been mounting as they sailed closer to their target, but he had been doing his best to take her lead in keeping them under wraps. The next few days were too important to risk screwing up with overthinking.

She rolled to her feet and stretched again, arms over her head nearly touching the low ceiling. His gaze raked up and down her form. He'd never exactly been a chaste man, but being with her had turned him back into an eager, hungry teenager. She reached for her chest bindings, which hung over the back of a nearby chair after being carelessly tossed there the previous night, but he sat up quickly and stopped her hand. She looked down at him with confusion and he flashed her a sly grin. "No one said we had to get dressed quite yet," he purred as he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her back to the floor.

With a warm laugh, she climbed into his lap. "How am I expected to get anything done with you around?" she growled playfully against his neck before pushing him back into the bedding.

* * *

The _Jackdaw_ pulled into port not long after dark that night. Each man aboard was awarded a small purse of gold for their previous few days of hard work, and most of the crew took a course straight for the brothels. Edward expected they'd all burn through their pay in two days' time, but with any luck they wouldn't be in Havana long enough to warrant him opening his coffers for them again. As for him and Mary, they'd headed for his favorite tavern in town, the one Stede Bonnet had introduced him to on his first ill-fated visit to the Spanish city.

Edward settled into a chair across from his quartermaster, setting their third round of drinks on the table. She was gazing out across the small courtyard thoughtfully, her thumb tracing the edge of the parchment in her hands. Her lips moved, and though she made no noise he knew what she was muttering to herself. A name, Ignacio du Mont, and an address near the courthouse. They didn't know if this man had Jennifer or, if not, what information he might have about her, but it was more than they'd had since the child had left Mary's arms on the day of her birth. It was hope. It made him nervous.

She reached out for her drink without taking her eyes off the lines of the cobblestone she was so intently studying. "I want to go," she stated. "Tonight, while he sleeps."

Edward shook his head. "We don't know what we're walking into. We don't know how heavily guarded he is, if at all, or if he's even in the city at present. This is too delicate. We need more information."

Her gaze snapped to his, and impatience flared behind her brown eyes with a fire he was all too familiar with. "We have more information than we've had in over year! This is hardly the biggest target we've dealt with, Kenway. The two of us can handle a few commoners in yellow coats."

"I don't doubt that, but if this man has been tasked with the keeping of your daughter they'll know our faces. I want to do this carefully."

She scoffed. "Since when do you do anything carefully?"

He reached across the table and put a hand on her wrist, wishing he could do more to comfort her without blowing her cover. "Since you wormed your way into my head and started fucking around with my conscience," he answered with a warm chuckle.

She offered an affectionate smirk and placed her free hand over his. "I've been fucking around with more than that, mate. All right. We'll figure something else out. But I'm not waiting any longer than tomorrow."

Before he could respond, a pair of figures entered the Tavern that the sight of cause the two of them to break apart abruptly. "Massey! Bell!" Edward called to his young crewmates.

A look of relief crossed Massey's face at the sight of them. Bell, however, looked ill. The former patted his friend on the shoulder and made for the bar while the latter crossed the courtyard towards his captain and quartermaster.

Mary motioned for him to have a seat with them. "What's the matter, lad? You look troubled." She passed him her drink and he took a hearty sip with a nod of gratitude.

"I received some news from home upon landing," the boy responded with a frown. "Not the best news, actually. It's my father, see? He's taken ill again."

Edward grimaced. His own father had died some years ago. That was a letter every sailor dreaded. He signaled to the bartender that they needed more drinks at their table. "I'm sorry to hear that, mate. It was good of your family to write to you."

Bell gave a sad laugh. "Well… I don't hear from them often. My parents don't exactly approve of my… profession. My sister, though, we always got on." He downed the last of Mary's rum as the next round arrived. "I must confess, however, I didn't come just to share bad news. I need a favor."

Mary nodded. "If it's in our power, we'll help."

Bell gave a small smile. "I don't come from a well-to-do family. My sister wrote in hopes that I might be able to send gold home to pay for a physician. I had set some set aside to return home and settle down one day, but I'm afraid it's not enough."

Edward had always liked this boy. He imagined Bell was the kind of young man he might have been if Mary had gotten a hold of him much sooner. He had a good heart, but he had ambition and drive as well. He turned to his quartermaster. "I think that's in our power, don't you agree?"

Mary nodded, but there was something else in her eye he couldn't read, something excited. "Your father raised a loyal sailor, regardless of whether he approves of what you do with your talents. We reward loyalty." Bell's eyes lit up, but she paused, calculating for a moment. "I would, however like to ask something of you in return. You'll get your gold even if you say no. The _Jackdaw_ is a family, which makes your father our family. But my family needs your help as well."

"Thank you, Master Kidd," the lad beamed, gripping her forearm with glee and gratitude. "Whatever you need, I'll be happy to help."

Mary smiled warmly, encouraged by his exuberance. She passed him the parchment with du Mont's address. "I need to know if this man is home. Scout the building, find out who lives there and what I'll have to fight my way through to get inside. Report back to me and dusk tomorrow, and I'll have made arrangements to send gold back to your family."

Bell took the paper and nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Master Kidd. Thank you, Captain Kenway. They won't know I was there." He motioned to his friend Massey at the bar and the pair left, hurried by their new endeavor.

Edward smirked at his lover. "You clever scoundrel. Manipulating that poor boy in his time of need…"

She rolled her eyes with a grin and leaned back in her chair. "I like to think he'd have done it anyway. He's a good lad, that one. Massey, too. They'll make fine Assassins one day."

He stared at her in mingled amusement and awe. She had a knack for this, turning scumbags into shadows. But she was right. He saw what she did in those young boys. They had the kind of spirit she'd shone a light on inside of himself.

* * *


	12. To The Sea

**Song:** _To The Sea_ \- Seafret

The sun was setting over Havana's port and color danced across the clouds like a tapestry in the wind. Edward was reclined against the stone wall that loomed over the gently rolling water in the port. He used the tankard in his hands to muffle his amusement while his beloved rebuked their crewmen for their spending habits. As predicted, most of the lot had blown their earnings on an assortment of funs and fancies before their second night in the city had begun. Unfortunately for them, this was not the day to come asking young Master Kidd for extra handouts.

Mary somehow towered over a gunner no less than a head taller than she was, nearly chest to chest. Her arms were crossed, and she held her chin high. The poor lad she was grinding beneath her metaphorical boot hung his shoulders low and stared intently at anything that wasn't his quartermaster's unyielding, narrow-eyed glare. In one hand she held a shiny new knife that would look impressive to most. However, compared to the cutting glint of _Venganza_ menacingly strapped to her hip, he thought it would appear better suited alongside a dinner plate.

"Tell me, Powder Monkey Herraro," she condescended. "You bet this strumpet… how much coin, that your cock was more threatening than you new knife?" She gave her wrist a wiggle for emphasis, letting the fading sunlight bounce off the polished blade in her hand.

Herrero cleared his throat. "I bet half, sir."

"Half of what, Herrero?" Mary arched her scarred brow expectantly.

"Half my wages, sir." The man rolled his shoulders nervously. Edward could tell he was hoping to appeal to Kidd's infamous moral scruples with his honesty. He wasn't sure what her punishment for deception might be, as none had ever dared, but he or any sane man would be loath to find out.

Mary inched closer to Herrero, peering up at him intently. "Let me finish your story for you, man. Jaysus knows I've heard it before. She took up your bet, you had a few more drinks, and when it came time to _perform_ you lost your nerve."

Herrero swallowed – his pride, clearly – and nodded with great shame and embarrassment evident in his manner.

Mary smirked and slapped the flat of the blade to the man's chest. She stepped back and let him cautiously take it from her hands. "No world-wisened woman believes a boastful man. Those who can support their claims have no need to brag, and they have no need to flash shiny objects for a lady's admiration. A knife like that says fresh gold. That's blood in the water to a lady of pleasure, and a mark who's too pickled to get it up makes for light work." She turned and strode toward Kenway, leaving Herrero to face the raucous ridicule of his crewmates. "Sell the knife," she called back as she walked away. "It'll keep you fed til you prove to me you can handle the gold I give you."

Edward passed her the tankard in his hand as she joined him against the wall. "A tongue lashing like that ought to curb his misbehavior for a time." He offered a toothy grin of pride. He knew few others who could make men of Herrero's might wither like ferns before the sun. "You've always had a handle on these louts. You'll be a natural parent, far more disposed to it than myself to be sure." The warmth in his voice was curbed by a touch of selfish hesitancy.

She rolled her eyes. "A better parent wouldn't have lost her child to madmen and murderers."

"Are you insulting murderers?" He teased her with mock offense and a sly wink.

"Oy, mind your step," she warned with a raised brow, but he could see the warmth of humor in her eyes. "A better parent might not be a murderer, herself."

"Oh, on the contrary, I might argue it makes you _more_ suited to parenthood. Refined protective instincts, ability to stand your ground…"

She shook her head in mild amusement and raised the tankard to her lips, but he reached out to stop her with a light hand on the rim. "You're not genuinely worried about your fitness for motherhood, are you?" he asked softly.

She set down their drink on the wall between them. "Any sane man or woman would be. It's unexplored territory and your aptitude decides an unfair amount of the course for a helpless child, not to mention anyone they ever get close enough to affect. Besides, my… _professional_ affiliations won't make for the safest upbringing. She'll make me vulnerable, and that vulnerability puts her on the butcher's block."

He squeezed her wrist, desperately wishing they were in private where he could do more to comfort her, but also knowing she likely didn't need the reassurance. Moments of self-doubt were rare for her, though when they did happen they were fleeting. Her convictions were unshakable but she had to consider the possibility she might get it wrong, else how could she be sure she was right? "Don't give a thought to her safety. There's not a Brother among us who wouldn't cut down a whole fleet themselves to protect your little girl. And Mary... you never need to worry about your fitness as a parent. You've raised me into a man of quality and character all on your own, have you not?"

She smiled at that, warming his heart in the process. "Not that you've made it easy, mate."

He grinned back cheekily. "What child would, in truth?"

The corner of his vision sparked in that moment with the aura of a friendly face. Mary must have sensed it too because her head whipped around just as soon as Bell broke free from the mingling crowds of the port market. She tugged on the sleeve of his robes, pulling him after her as they went to greet their young friend.

"What news?" Edward inquired with a terse urgency to his tone once they had drawn within earshot.

Bell's eyes landed on the pair through the throng of traders and he gave a relieved and eager sigh and he way his way over to them. "I did as you said, sirs, and scoped out Ignacio du Mont. He's a man of modest means, though he seems to live more comfortably than one of his post in the shipping business ought to. All those in the neighborhood that I spoke to sang praises of his leadership in their community, but there seems little remarkable about him outside of those two points."

"And the house?" Mary pressed, her demeanor measured yet hopeful.

"Aye, the address you gave is indeed the du Mont residence," Bell confirmed. "It's a grand thing, but aging and in need of some upkeep, and its staff seemed well-treated. Their quarters are on the ground floor, while du Mont resides above with his wife and small child."

Mary noticeably stiffened at Kenway's side. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, checking her from appearing too personally invested in this piece of news in front of their crewman. "What can you tell us about this child?"

Bell shrugged. "Not much. It's a wee lad, less than a year of age by my eyes."

Mary relaxed under the captain's fingers, a little disappointed, he guessed. He let his hand drop from her coat.

"Anything else you can tell us?" Mary questioned, shifting her weight away from Edward inconspicuously.

"Just this: there are many empty rooms in the house that appear to be equipped for children. When I asked after the family, I learned that they sometimes take in urchins off the street. They care for them, find a suitable couple for an adoption. It's all quite… philanthropic, though the rooms seem to have been empty for a time." He hesitated for a moment, somewhat unsure of himself. "If I may be so bold as to assume that your true intent is on one such urchin, I feel confident that du Mont will have some valuable information to help you on your way."

Edward bristled protectively, but Mary laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Aye, you may be so bold, but I'd ask that you make no _further_ assumptions about this matter," she confirmed. "It's not your due to go digging in it just yet. Though I'd wager you're right about du Mont. I expect he'll prove a willing font of knowledge." Her fingers graced the ruby pommel of her dagger lightly.

Edward grinned at her, his tension turning to anticipation. "I do hope he won't mind us two dropping in for a chat, then." He reached into his coat and removed a rather sizable pouch of gold, which he pressed into Bell's grateful hands. "For your family, as promised."

"That ought to pay for a physician and keep your family in food and home until your father is well enough to work again," Mary added. "If his illness draws on, we'll be glad to send more. You need only to ask."

Bell nodded with eyes wide at the wealth between his fingertips. The Assassins both knew he wasn't the type of boy to waste a single coin on himself when it was needed elsewhere. It would all certainly make it back to his loved ones. "I thank you, sirs. My family won't forget this kindness."

Mary clapped his shoulder. "Nor will we forget yours. You've done us a great service. Now off with you! You've a courier ship to catch." She waved him away with a small smile of confidence on her lips. Edward knew she was pleased with herself for finding this one. It was only a matter of time before they welcomed him to the Brotherhood, he was sure of it.

Bell nodded gratefully again and scurried off down the docks to find the fastest vessel with a course set for London. There was many a captain that would lie hand over foot to get his hands on that purse with false promises of delivery, but the young boy was a pirate himself and would surely see through such ruses to find a trustworthy sea craft.

Mary put a hand on her partner's back and led him down the road into town. The city was beginning to quiet around them as children were put to bed and families tidied up after their supper in the tranquility of dusk. The hum of domesticity hung in the autumn air light as a feather, yet Edward felt it smothering him like a downy pillow as he tried to stifle his uncertainty for their near future. He was grateful, however, for the shadows drawing long across the dusty Havana streets. Their cover allowed them to move toward du Mont's home with fewer anxious glaces about their surroundings.

"A foster home," he mused eventually, breaking through the buzz of insects and the gentle breeze. "Odd that Torres would have such a connection. Did he really deal in children with the frequency to render it necessary?"

Mary frowned and cast a scolding glance, but he could sense by the steady pressure of her hand on his spine that she wasn't truly irritated at his remark. "I don't like to imagine my daughter as a commodity to be bought and sold, or any person for that matter. But I can see why the Templars would value a man like du Mont. They can harm and manipulate their enemies as they've done me without having to take responsibility for the child's well-being, and it's more difficult to keep track of where they end up if another party handles the transactions. It's almost clever, really. Something I might have done, were I of a different mind about the ethics of it."

Edward nodded thoughtfully. "I would have thought it too kind a solution for a man of Torres' disposition. Perhaps he did hold a soft spot in his heart for babes… though it seems perverse to distinguish them from the other innocents he so sought to control."

Mary's lips pressed into a firm line. "I hope you're right about that. If this du Mont harmed my girl…"

"I'll gladly hold him down while you split his skull." He pressed a supportive kiss to her temple as they walked. "Though I'd rather toy with him a bit first. I know merciful deaths are your color, but mine run darker yet. You'd be welcome to join me in my fun, however."

She smirked at his proposition. "I s'pose I haven't wrung the whole scoundrel out of you yet."

"Would I be any fun if you had?" He punctuated his words with a saucy wink.

Mary eyed him up and down suggestively. "Perhaps it isn't the worst thing."

* * *

By the time they reached the address that Ikal had given them some days earlier, the sun had sunk resolutely behind the mountains and the most commanding sounds in the air were the wind and the shuttering of windows. Mary led the way as they circled the residence. It was a two story home, proud but not immodest, with fading green walls and white trimmings that glowed pale in the dawning moonlight. There was no hint of the heavy security that they were accustomed to dealing with when infiltrating Templar bases. In fact, the building gave no more hint of concern toward intruders than its neighbors did. Edward found it highly suspect, but didn't voice his unease. If Ikal said this was where they would find their man then this was where they needed to be.

They found a window sitting open on the second floor at the back of the house, its wispy curtains dancing sleepily in the warm breeze. Mary ran at the wall, kicking off the side boards to push herself into the air and grip the windowsill. Edward stayed on the ground, keeping watch for any patrolmen and waiting for her to scope out the interior. She hauled herself inside and disappeared for a long moment before poking her head back out. She signaled for him to follow, but to do so quietly.

He sprinted at the house and pushed off the side as she had, propelling himself up to the open window. She took his hand and pulled him in. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in the dimly lit room of a child. du Mont's infant son slept to his left, letting out the tiniest of snores every handful of seconds. Carefully, Edward crept to where Mary was crouched at the open doorway, peering into the hall. It was empty. Together they slunk into the greater house. Mary headed with purpose toward the door opposite the landing of the stairs, seeming to sense something within, and quietly, gently twisted the knob. She cracked the door open just enough for them to slip into the room.

Ignacio du Mont laid by his wife's side in an opulent four-poster bed that had seen some wear. The emerald green drapery hung loosely around the sleeping couple. Edward snuck to the man's side of the bed and grabbed a fistful of the heavy velvet curtain. With that in hand, he engaged his wrist blade and pressed one long edge against the exposed flesh of his target's throat, covering du Mont's mouth and nose with the cloth to muffle his reaction. The Spaniard's eyes snapped open, fluttering like wings as he adjusted to consciousness and took in his tense situation.

Mary hovered at Edward's side. Her hand rested lightly on the grip of her ruby knife, intimidating but not yet threatening. "We have no quarrel with your wife," she hissed lightly through the darkness. "Best you come with us, so as not to disturb her."

Edward tentatively removed the curtain from du Mont's face and motioned for him to stand, pressing the blade to his neck a little rougher as a warning. Eyes wide but compliant, the Spaniard held his hands just above his head as he was led into the hallway. The Assassins led him past his son's room to one at the other end of the house, far from the sleeping ears of his family yet still high enough to hurt should they need to throw him from a window for whatever reason.

The room they had selected was an abandoned nursery. The walls were a gentle, soothing shade of yellow, and two bassinets were nestled along the far wall. An assortment of toys adorned the shelves and two plush, burgundy chairs sat by the window facing each other. Edward pushed du Mont into one and Mary settled into the other.

Mary leaned forward commandingly, placing her elbows on her spread knees with her hands clasped loosely between them. Her calm was menacing. "Are you the man the Templars call Ignacio du Mont?" she inquired evenly.

Their target gave her a nervous, but puzzled look. "Sí, that is my name, though I know not of these Templars you speak of."

Edward tightened his knife's grip on his captive's skin. "Don't lie, cockrobin. Your hide won't thank you for it."

du Mont tensed, his fingers digging into the upholstery of his seat. "That is my honest truth, I swear to you!"

Mary raised a steadying hand. The captain met her eyes and he could tell she believed the squirming Spaniard's words. He eased up, feeling du Mont relax beneath his grip.

"Is it true to that you work for the former Governor Laureano de Torres?" Mary pressed.

du Mont shook his head, looking nervous and a bit confused. "I took contracts from the Governor on occasion, sí, but my day to day work is with a shipping company. Rum, tobacco, sometimes armaments if the price is high enough. That sort of thing."

The set of Mary's mouth firmed, but the sparkle in her fawn eyes gave away her eagerness at his admission. "Tell me, Ignacio, did these contracts ever ask you to deal in the trafficking of humans? What is the price for that, I wonder?"

Their mark's eyes grew wide and he threw up his hands in defensive objection. "No, never, sir. The slave trade is a dark and immoral business, simply uncatholic. I would not sully my hands or my family name with it. We are not so desperate for the gold it would bring that I need stoop so low. You dishonor me with the accusation."

Mary leaned back in her chair with her hands crossed over her lap, skeptical. "So the Governor Torres has never brought you a child to dispense of." Her tone was pointed, trapping.

Understanding dawned on du Mont's face and he backtracked on his indignation. He shook his head and huffed to the floor. "I must explain. My wife has this passion for children, you see. She herself was orphaned as at a tender age, but was lucky enough to be taken as a ward… Others are not so fortunate. We house children in crisis around the city as there is a need for it. You can see from our relatively vacant home that she has quite a knack for finding suitable families for the sweet babes that cross our door, and has gained some pleasant notoriety in the city for her work. This news reached the Governor at some point and he offered to aid our efforts. A few times over the years, Torres' men would bring us a child or two. Sometimes they stayed for a time before the Governor sent to retrieve them, and other times we were asked to find them loving homes. Such children always came with a hefty donation… and a request for discretion."

The man's passion for his cause seemed true, but his last words stirred Edward's blood. "Did you not think to ask who these young ones belonged to? Did the cloak and dagger of it not rouse your suspicions?"

du Mont raised his hands concedingly. "In truth, they did at times. At first we suspected them to be the Governor's bastards, and might have left it at that had there not been so many over the years. But what power did we have to investigate? And how could we do so without having to admit to ourselves our own part in any nefarious plot? It would ruin my wife. The only power I possess is to care for and nurture these innocent souls and to place them with families who will do the same. And every man must make compromises. Their price has permitted us to take in many others who come to us through honest means, children we might otherwise have needed to turn away."

Mary nodded thoughtfully, less irate, more understanding than Edward himself. "I respect your motives, but not your methods. Unfortunately, those are personal to me. You see, one of these little ones came to you straight from my own arms, robbed from me at her birth." She leaned in closer, her eyes imploring, attempting to appeal to the loving parent in du Mont. "You're a father. You have a young son. You can imagine how I must find my daughter, how I have died everyday that I have been unable to do so since that morning last April when she was stolen from me."

"April?" du Month started. He gave a heavy sigh and glanced at Edward patiently but warily. "May I stand? I have something you may like to see."

Kenway let him rise, but kept his blades at the ready should their new friend make a move to escape. The Spaniard led the way down the stairs with the pirates at his tail and took them into a study. He went directly to his desk and ran his fingers along the underside of the table's lip. There was a soft click and a hidden drawer popped out at the side. He gently lifted a small, blue notebook from within.

"It was never a direct condition of our arrangement that I wasn't to keep records on the children Torres brought to me, but I don't suspect he would be pleased that I have. Regardless, the secrecy made me uneasy and I wanted insurance should their origins come back to haunt me as you have this night." He handed the book to Mary. Edward loomed at her shoulder, watching as she thumbed through the pages, seeking one dated April 1721.

"I remember your girl. She came to me still slick from the womb. We seldom get them so small, and we feared for a time that she wouldn't make it… but she had strength in her. I particularly enjoyed having her here. She was a quiet, agreeable thing."

"Not at all like her mother then," Edward quipped playfully, earning himself a dark glare from Mary.

"Here," his partner breathed when she landed on the page. There was an address - a plantation at Matanzas - and three names: the adoptive couple, Thiago and Catalina Reyes, and their adopted daughter.

"Maria?" Edward remarked incredulously.

"Sí, that's the name the Governor gave when she was brought to us," du Mont confirmed, perplexed at his change in tone.

His lover laughed out loud, and the sound was angry. "That codger…" She turned to du Mont and explained, "The mother was an Englishwoman named Mary. She… didn't get on with the Governor. Giving her child the Spanish iteration of her name, I suppose it was both a tribute and an insult. A way to honor the mother and their quarrels, yet possess the daughter as spoils of war."

du Mont nodded. "Indeed, I knew Torres to have an ever slightly perverse sense of humor. Still, he paid well, and your child was no exception. The money was put to her good care, I can assure you." He took the book back from her and ripped out the page concerning Jennifer before locking it safely back in his desk. "I don't know what your quarrel was, but believe you me, I have no affiliation with him past what we've discussed, and no stake in his affairs. I am sorry for the part I played in your daughter's kidnapping, and for the pain it caused your family. I am not in the business of separating parent and child. Quite the opposite, actually." He offered the paper to Mary, who took it gratefully.

"Thank you for your help, and for keeping my girl safe during her time here." After pausing in contemplation for a moment, Mary reached into her coat and pulled out a pouch of gold. It bore the Assassin insignia. She dropped the sack onto du Mont's desk with a soft thud and the jingling of coin. "You and your wife do noble work here. If you ever seek to do business with a more honorable cut of folk, show this symbol at your threshold. Our friend Rhona will know to seek you out."

du Mont smiled amicably. "I will keep it in mind. Now go in peace, dark friends. Your daughter awaits."

Mary nodded in farewell and started out the door. Edward lingered a moment, hesitant. His insecurities and fears about this child mounted again at this new information, holding him back from following the person he cared about most. They were so close to finding Jennifer, but every step they took closer to her took him one step closer to an irrevocable change in his relationship with her mother. Jenny would always come first in Mary's eyes, as she damn well should. Would he be able to prioritize her the same way, this child that should have been his but now never could be? Mary would expect it of him. If he was a good man, he'd be up to the task. Maybe someday he'd get there. He just had to hope that happened before he could ruin himself in Mary's eyes once and for all.

The woman he loved paused just outside, looking back at him expectantly. "Coming, Kenway?"

Looking at her in the moonlight, strong and healthy and _alive_ , he knew this was not the greatest thing he would be willing to overcome to stay by her side.

"Aye," he called back, his voice catching every so slightly. He turned to du Mont and gestured farewell. "Cherish your wife and son," he advised. Looking around the plush, modest study he added, "You've been blessed with a good life here. I envy you for it."

He followed Mary out of the house, leaving behind their slightly puzzled new friend to mull over the strangest night of his recent years. With a hand on his partner's back, the two Assassins set off down the road toward what Edward hoped would become the happiness and satisfaction he so craved.

* * *

The moon hung low on the horizon. Its silver reflection reached out across the sea, stretching toward Edward only to be broken apart by the waves just before reaching him on the shore. The captain sat tucked into the sandy slope of a Havana beach, bare-chested and bare-footed. He wiggled his toes deeper into the soft, bleached grains before him, still somewhat warm from the hot, sunny day. The temperature cooled each inch he dug deeper. Flecks of it clung to his arms and legs and hugged the damp bottom-third of the bottle at his side like a sleeve askew.

While Mary had gone back to the Jackdaw to make the necessary preparations for their trip at first light, he had come to commune with the sea as he always did when he felt he was losing control. The ocean was one thing he knew he had command of. Here, he was a devil and a king. He inspired fear in his enemies and loyalty in his friends. There was no battle he couldn't win, no place that was barred to him. Try as they might, these West Indies couldn't seem to kill him.

What he couldn't control, however, was his future. Tomorrow night, his relationship with Mary was decidedly going to change. Tomorrow, Mary herself was going to change. She would be a mother in more than just blood and name. He couldn't say for certain how that might affect their dynamic. Their relationship, their partnership, those were sometimes strained and always carefully balanced. This child would throw a very sturdy weight onto one side of all things. Could they learn to compensate? Edward couldn't be sure. Mary was so firey and he was so hard-headed. How would the responsibilities of parenthood interact with those traits?

Moreover, he couldn't control how tomorrow would go for Mary. There were so many unknowns, so many variables, that he couldn't ensure the day would go to plan. He couldn't predict how receptive young Jennifer would be to the change, or if she would be able to understand what was happening. His feelings about this girl's origins and the potential ramifications on his own life aside, Mary deserved to be reunited with her daughter. Even if it meant he had to give her up altogether to make it happen, then so be it. He would do whatever he could to make their mission a success along with their life thereafter, but ever since that night he'd pulled Mary out of that reeking prison cell he'd had a crippling fear of not being able to do enough. A fear of being too late.

The sound of familiar footsteps at his side flushed his chest with warmth. The small, rough hand on his bare shoulder was a welcome reminder that he didn't do this - or anything else - alone. He looked up to see Mary, not James Kidd, at his side. Her hair hung loose, gently lifted here and there by the warm breeze winding around them. She was dressed down to a white blouse with simple trousers and no boots. Her expression was more relaxed than he had seen it in a week, much to his pleasant surprise. "Mind if I join you?" she asked in a murmur.

In response he took her hand and pulled her down to the sand next to him. She leaned her shoulder against his and gazed our across the water. The waves broke with a soothing, steady roar, their crests five deep as they rolled in toward the beach.

"You've been out here quite a while," she observed after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

He turned his head and pressed a small kiss to the crown of her head. She smelled like salt, sweat, and smoke. "Aye, I wanted some quiet. Needed to do a bit of thinking. Did you get on all right with the crew?"  
She nodded. "The damp louts will be right and ready come dawn," she said in a scoff, rubbing the back of his hand affectionately with her thumb.

He smiled lightly at her irritation with their ever-intoxicated crew and squeezed her fingers. "It is my great regret that I didn't steal you aboard the _Jack_ years ago. If only Adé had forced my hand a year or two sooner."

Mary laughed at that. "As though you could have talked me into it, at the time. Or as though you'd have even asked. You're well aware I'd have used it as a chance to guilt you into joining our Creed, and we both know how eager you were to subject yourself to that back then." She elbowed him in the ribs teasingly.

He playfully shoved back before letting out a wistful sigh and hanging his head. "No, you're wrong about that. I would have jumped at the chance to sail with you. I know I wasn't an easy man-" She cut him off with an arched brow. He returned a cheeky grin and revised his statement. "- _am not_ an easy man to call friend, but Mary, even then I craved your approval. Yearned to stand at your side an equal in character, worthy of being spoken of in the same breath as you and your brothers. I thought I could go about it my own way, thought that riches and reputation could buy me that right. I tried, Lord knows I did, but I almost lost you for it, and did lose so many others." His thoughts wandered sadly to their motley family in Nassau, long gone. Thatch, Anne, all the rest more colorful and abrasive.

She held his gaze calmly with affection and concern in her sharp eyes, staying silent as though she could sense there was more he wasn't saying. And there was. He didn't want to say it, was loath even to think it in the shadowed privacy of his own mind. Maybe it was the alcohol swimming about in his veins, however, or that look she was giving him, the patience that always broke him to pieces in the end, but he felt it needed said. Tomorrow would be a different life from the one they were living in that moment on the beach beneath the waning moon. If he didn't tell her that night, he would most certainly take it to his grave.

With an anxious huff and a heavy pull from his bottle of rum he continued, his words directed at the rolling waves before them. "More than anything, I hope I would have asked you aboard because I wonder what might have been different in our lives if we hadn't spent those few years apart." He pulled his hand from hers, ashamed. His fingers dropped to grab fistfuls of sand, letting the grains sift through them like the wasted days he might have spent loving her instead of his gold. "My cursed partnership with Roberts, your arrest, our long months languishing away in that dank hole." He swallowed hard as his throat tried to trap his next words in his chest. "But mostly… I hope Jennifer could have been mine. My blood. No other man's." He tried to keep the jealous venom out of his tone but it was all he could do to get the idea past his lips. Controlling his emotions was out of the question. With a rough sigh he conceded, "It's a natural consequence of my past choices that she is not. But I do hope I could have found a way to be worthy of that honor. To win your favor each night, to make you so satisfied, body and soul, that you need not visit another man's bed or spend your days in the light of his affection. To be _enough_. A joy and not a burden."

Mary was still as he said all this, carrying on with her patient silence. When he dared glance at her, she was studying the horizon. Her wrists were draped loosely over her knees and her thumbs picked absently at her middle and ring fingers as they sometimes did when she was deep in thought, carefully selecting her words. He couldn't name the emotion on her face.

"Anne always said he reminded her of you," she started after a tense moment of quiet had passed between them that, to Edward, didn't seem like it would ever end. "I never saw what she did in that. But each of you was after the same thing as the other, something more meaningful than base gold and drink. Esteem, respect, community. Perhaps that's what she always meant. He was the only man dry enough to fight beside us women that night. He was killed in the struggle while the drunken rats cowering below deck got their fair trial. Twisted fate, that. I never had the chance to tell him I was with child, but I think he'd have been happy. Proud, even. I didn't love him, nor did he love me to my knowing, but we respected each other, and he'd have made a good father. His name was Jamie. My girl has his red hair." She turned to face him and placed a hand on his knee. "I'm not going to soothe your ego, Kenway. I have no regrets for these past few years, though I can't speak for what I might have done had things unfolded in any other manner. But I know my course lies with my daughter, and there's room alongside us if you're as certain of your heading as I am of mine. Given time, who knows? Perhaps one day there will be a child that's equal parts your blood as they are mine."

Edward's insecurities didn't melt away as she spoke, explaining her side, nor did he feel any more settled about the past and his own regrets. Maybe, though, that was a good thing. His ghosts and regrets were almost welcome friends now. They were the driving force for his ambitions, a somber glimpse at the darkness that awaited him should he ever slip into his old ways, the easy ways. Each morning and night he faced them and counted up his deeds to assure himself they would never again be his reality, would not rob him of even one more day of happiness than they already had. Mary, their future together, even a child one day… they would be his reward for staying his course. He had a feeling that Jennifer would serve as both a ghost and a reward.

He kissed her then, forcefully. "I can wait for that day," he promised her. "Because Jennifer is a part of you, and there's not one damned piece of you that I don't love more than any of my own." And he meant that. Until the day that they were ready for another, and every day after that, he would love that little girl as though she were his very own, because she was Mary's and Mary was his from then and forever more. At last.


	13. Shelter

**Song:** _Shelter_ \- Dermot Kennedy

For all the sly and stealthy tricks Edward has mastered in his twenty-nine years, he had never quite figured out a graceful exit from calm waters. His boots sloshed ungracefully against the sea that was gently licking at his thighs. The weight of his waterlogged clothes pulled him down without the crashing of waves to urge him forward and drown the noise from his struggle. Fortunately, the small cove was deserted and there were no guards to take notice of his hampered arrival.

Mary sat crouched in the sand, loading her pistols with the dry gunpowder she kept in a vial in her coat while he finished tugging their rowboat out of the shallows. When he finished he went to join her. He shook out his salty hair, showering the ground around himself with a dappling of sea water before retying the shaggy knot at the nape of his neck.

He surveyed his surroundings. To his back the jagged rocks that they'd snuck between obscured their line of sight to the _Jackdaw_. The young crewman Abbott had gone ashore earlier under the guise of a merchant and traded some bread with a slave for that secret way ashore. Ahead, the lights from the plantation glowed like a sunset over the jungle canopy. They had arrived at midday but had agreed with one another to linger offshore just out of sight and bide their time, waiting to strike under the shroud of night. Their objective was a delicate one. They needed to make their way to the manor, find the girl, and escape with her to the _Jackdaw_ while inciting minimal violence along the way. Open conflict was too great a risk with Jennifer in the crossfire. They both knew what could happen to her if they weren't careful but dared not speak the possibility aloud for fear of tempting the fates. They had come too far, they had gotten too close. Mistakes were out of the question.

As Edward prepared his own weapons, gazing out across the moonlight on the shallow water, he felt he had to pause and reflect on the distance he had spanned the past two years. It could be said that his story began the day of the shipwreck that thrust his path across Duncan Walpole's. Murdering that turncoat Templar had been his first battle in an age-old war that he had never know was being fought all around him, in every corner of the world. The part that he played in this war was what he would be remembered for, if he was remembered at all. If they told his story, it would start with Walpole.

In his heart, however, he knew the most important part of his journey through this life began on a sunny Kingston beach with nothing to his name save his grief, a cryptic, orphan letter, and one hell of a hangover. It was on that day that he began paying down the cosmic debt incurred by the folly of his youth. It wasn't the self-serving, green and untested boy who had changed the course of history, sticking his fingers into the hoards of golden snakes. No, it was the man, humbled and convicted, who had torn those chests apart and thrown the wreckage to the sea. He had righted every wrong wrought by his greed, bar one, and by dawn his ledger would be black.

Edward finished his preparations before his partner did. Mary was painstaking as she adjusted her gear and double-checked her ammo pouches. Edward stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. He could just barely feel her firm muscles beneath her coat, more tightly wound than he would have wished to find them. He would be lying to say his own didn't mirror hers. When she glanced up at him there was no hesitation in her eyes, but he did find fear there. He was glad for this. Her fear was the greatest reason she was an inspiration to him. It made her careful. It made her passionate. It made her courageous. He had never known fear until he'd had something to lose. She was old friends with it long before he'd even met her. He offered a hand and she took it, pulling herself to her feet.

"Follow my lead on this one," she instructed, her tone stiff and cautioning. "No surprises."

He gestured down the path with an affirming smile. He kept one of her hands in his, the one that hand been mangled in the Observatory. "Business as usual, then."

She smirked wryly and led him up the hill through the trees. They came over the crest and passed a vacant guard encampment with a still-smoldering fire. Just beyond that the jungle gave way to the plantation, tucked away safely into a large cove. A sizeable warehouse stood in their way, backed by rows of sugarcane that were broken up by the occasional shed. At the far end of the cove they could just make out the manor through gaps in tree branches, sitting atop a small hill that they knew ended in the cliffs by the sea. That was their assumed destination. Getting that far unnoticed would be a small challenge.

Edward eyed the warehouse as they ducked into a patch of bushes. Any other day of his life, it would have made a handsome mark. This night, however, they pursued an infinitely more valuable target. Passing it over ached in the part of his heart that still clung to his old ways, but he took pride in the ease with which he put that thought to bed as he scanned its perimeter for enemies. The gunman on the roof would have to be taken care of. A handful of men milled about the entrances.

"I'll take the ground," Mary whispered before letting out a low whistle. A guard turned, confused. "You take the gunner."

Edward made some sharp clicking noises to draw the guard closer. "We clear this and then skirt the property along the cliffside. There'll be fewer patrols there."

The guard poked at the bushes. Mary's arms flashed out, pulling him in close enough for Edward's wrist blades to do their work. "See you on the other side," she said with a nod as she picked through the guard's coat for useful items.

Edward pushed free of the branches and sprinted for the warehouse. He jumped and grabbed the eaves to hoist himself up. The sniper turned at the sound of Kenway's boots scrabbling against the eaves, but he was too late to ready his musket. The Assassin grabbed him by the pant leg and yanked, dropping the gunner to his ass as he fell from the upper tier of the roof into the range of Edward's blades.

When he dove off the other side of the roof into a cushy haycart, Edward found Mary hadn't waited for him. He watched as she scaled a crumbling water wheel not far off. On the scaffolding, a limp arm draped over the side, seemingly a victim of her sleeping darts. To his left was an alarm bell, which was backed by a watch tower. The gunner had his back turned, leaving a small window for Mary to finish her man unseen. Determined to widen it, Edward took the opportunity to dash across the rows of sugar cane and scamper up the ladder. As he climbed, the man began shouting. Mary's window must have closed. Kenway cut off his warning cry with a blade to the throat. His partner glanced up at the commotion from the body she'd just dealt with and tossed an appreciative wave before jumping back down to disable the alarm. He slipped back down the ladder to join her.

They darted across the green to hug the cliff face. A small stream bubbled under the water wheel, broken by patches of earth and stone. Mary motioned to leap across and Edward followed, only to narrowly avoid colliding with her when she halted suddenly. "Crocodile," she warned. She was right. Lazily swimming about just under their path was a danger he hadn't detected. They waited for it to swim further away before leaping over.

They rounded the crumbling structure where a lone, hulking guard warmed his hands next to a fire in the shadow of largest intact walls. Unable to see a way past him without being detected, Edward rushed the fire. Mary gave an annoyed groan at his brashness and followed after him, blades drawn. The big brute looked up from the flames, startled at their approach, and quickly drew his axe. The handle collided with Edward's sword, catching and mitigating the momentum of the attacking Assassin. Edward countered blow after blow, but the guard seemed overwhelmed trying to parry his swings while keeping Mary from slipping behind him and driving her knife between his ribs. It wasn't long before she found her opening. She dug _Venganza_ into his flesh and, when he faltered, Edward drove the tip of his sword up through the soldier's jaw.

They collected what ammo there was off the body and rushed toward the manor once more. One unlucky solider wandered into their path and Mary swiftly tackled him from behind. Eventually they found themselves between a large pool with another lone crocodile and the base of the hill. The path was guarded by two men, but they were able to skirt the pond and sneak through the bushes. The undergrowth lined the path leading to the manor. When they hit a low stone wall around its perimeter, they vaulted the top into a hay cart and stayed there, surveying the situation.

Two guards patrolled the roof while two walked the exterior at ground level. The eaves of the house covered a wrap-around walkway with several doors. On the second floor was a covered balcony. To their right was an alarm bell.

A guard stopped for a moment to rest against their cart. Edward reached out and dug a wrist blade into his neck, severing his windpipe before hauling him into the cart. One guard down. The rest were unlikely to be dealt with quietly. Avoiding them was their best bet. They couldn't afford to trigger the alarm.

Mary leaned over to whisper in his ear. "The balcony is our best bet. Only one of us can easily slip in without anyone noticing. I'm going in. You're going to disable the bell. If you can join me after that, do. Otherwise, keep the guards off my tail." Before he could object, she leaped from the cart and dashed toward the ladder leading to the balcony, taking advantage of a brief gap between patrolmen. He clenched his teeth, nervous to have to let her go into the house alone. Try as he might, he couldn't sense what or who might be inside. All he could do was wait for an opening to cut the clapper free from the alarm bell.

He moved from the haystack to a bush next to the bell when no one was looking. A few breaths and a little patience more and he had his chance. He rushed to the shrubbery on the other side of the post, cutting the clapper rope as he went and letting the heavy pendulum drop to the ground with a light thud. Beyond that, he sat at waited. He wanted to join Mary inside, but the guards on the roof made it difficult to get close to the balcony unseen.

Just has he had that thought, the gunner approached the north end of the roof, coming within range of Edward's blowpipe. Eagerly, the Assassin loaded a dart and gave it a puff. It found it's mark, and the sniper staggered a moment before collapsing. The gunman's comrade heard the impact of body on tile and quickly climbed to the top of the house to investigate. Edward took his chance and scrambled toward the manor. He clawed his way up as fast as he could and cut the throat of the second guard before his victim had the chance to turn around. The body slumped over onto the sleeping gunner. That would be one unpleasant awakening, indeed, but Kenway didn't see fit to kill him as well. The dart would give them enough time to avoid pointless bloodshed, he felt sure.

He turned back the way he came and gripped the edge of the roof. Dropping, he swung himself into the balcony, nearly colliding with the door when he landed. Quietly as he could, he cracked it open and slipped inside.

The interior of the house was dark, but he could make out subtle hits of opulence. The wooden floorboards hardly creaked beneath his feet, and the long, crimson rug further dampened his footsteps. Portraits dotted the walls, and the stern eyes of the subjects unsettled Edward. He walked quickly, eager to locate Mary and be away from the place.

He found her in a room at the end of the long hallway. She had left the door open just a crack, and gentle candlelight filtered into the hallway beneath it. He pushed it open and found the woman he loved crouched at the side of a small bed. A toddler with mussed reddish-blonde hair sat on the edge, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of Mary's curiously. Jenny looked up when he walked in, confused but not afraid. Mary turned her head and the look in her eyes broke his heart. They sparkled with emotion and the slightest of smiles tugged at her lips. He went to her side and knelt so that he was at eye level with her daughter. She held his gaze with the same sparkling, fawn brown irises that Mary had. "Maria?" he whispered, using her Spanish name. The girl nodded shyly. He put a hand on his chest, desperately hoping her wet nurse had taught her English. "I'm Edward. I'm here to take you on an adventure. Do you want to come?"

Jenny clapped excitedly. "Sí, sí!" she whispered back excitedly in the bird's-chirp tone of a giddy child. She was a trusting one.

Mary lifted a finger to her lips. "We have to be quiet. It's part of the game." She reached out her arms and Jenny eagerly thrust her tiny frame into them. Mary stood, hoisting the girl onto her hip. She gestured with her chin at the door, but it was her expression that caught him. To hold her daughter was her dream come true, but it still threatened to turn into a nightmare. "Time to go," she whispered to Edward with urgency in her voice.

He nodded and stood, moving to open the door for her.

He found himself face-to-face with a terrified older woman carrying a lantern, presumably a maid or wet nurse. Startled and with eyes wide, he pushed past her, knocking her into a wall. Mary was tight on his heels as they shot down the hall. The woman shouted for them to stop, for help, for the guards. When they reached the balcony Edward turned to close the door behind them. He saw a man and woman in dressing gowns stumble into the hallway. When the woman saw Jenny in Mary's arms, she cried out in horror and fell to her knees. Edward shut the door on the husband who had pushed past his wife in pursuit. "Go," he hissed to his partner. Mary clutched her daughter to her chest and jumped, rolling into her landing to protect them both. Edward saw a guard run around the side of the house toward them and he quickly fired off a shot, knocking the man dead on the spot before vaulting the bannister and landing hard at Mary's side.

Going back through the planation the way they came was out of the question. The ruckus at the manor had not gone unnoticed and alarm bells began to peal off the cove walls. The only route left was over the cliff toward the sea. They dashed to the rocky slope and began to work their way down, jumping from boulder to boulder and passing Jenny when necessary. The child had begun to cry, confused and scared by the sudden fuss and loud noises, but she clung to them for safety all the same.

Fortunately, the _Jackdaw_ had been waiting in the wings to send aid if needed. By the time their boots hit the beach a rowboat had been dispatched and was nearing the shore. They pushed into the water chest-deep to meet Massey and Bell. Mary passed Jenny to Bell who tucked her into his lap. Edward gave Mary a boost into the boat so she could take over at the oars for Bell before allowing Massey to pull him in too. He took post at the back of the boat and began firing at their pursuers on the shoreline while his friends hauled them back to the safety of the _Jack_.

* * *

Edward cupped a bowl of stew in each hand and made his way up to the main deck, careful not to trip on the dark stairs. He squinted as he reached the surface. The great sails of his ship did little to filter the rays of dawn as it broke over the sea between them and their far-off destination of Tulum. With hunters likely to be on their tail soon after their successful kidnapping, they thought it best to take a roundabout way home and protect Great Inagua as an Assassin sanctuary.

A number of men milled about the deck, most turning to mutter to each other when he passed. They'd all been aware of their mission, but rumors about the young James Kidd's illegitimate daughter ran rampant among their ranks. Many of them had children of their own, but all had been left behind and all but forgotten along with whatever poor barmaid they'd saddled with the lifelong cost of a night of a sailor's company. Kidd was a nobler man that the rest of them combined if just as much fun to drink with, that much was known, but a ship was no place for a female, so they said. What men abstained from criticizing the choice to claim the girl made raunchy jabs about the spicy wench who must have given her her red locks.

None of this was spoken in Kidd's presence, obviously. They valued their tongues too much for that.

When he entered their cabin, he found the woman he loved leaning against the post next to her cot watching Jennifer drool angelically into the sheets of Mary's cot. She was dressed down to her blouse and trousers. Her hair was loose, her arms were crossed, and her bare toes drew absent circles against the soft, well-worn wood floorboards. She glanced up at his entry and smiled when she saw the bowls in his hands. She hadn't eaten much the night before, too anxious to take more than what she needed to be alert and have energy. Neither had he for that matter. He placed one bowl between her palms and rested the second on his desk. He had taken his own breakfast in the mess hall with the crew and spent most of it deflecting questions from them. No, this was for Jenny when she awoke. It wasn't the fine dining she would be accustomed to as a planter's daughter but it would give her energy. The events of the night had worn her out, and children needed more rest and care than most in the best of times.

"How long has she been asleep?" he whispered after Mary had lifted her stew to her lips.

"She went down shortly after you went to fetch your meal," Mary explained.

Jennifer hadn't been pleased with their dodgy escape and had asked for her 'mami' many times. She seemed to speak some English but most of her blubbering had been garbled Spanish words. Getting her into the quiet safety of the captain's quarters – away from the crew – had helped her calm down. It was upsetting to see her resist her rescue, but the poor child had just lost the only life and the only family she'd known. She would have to learn a new language, a new name, new parents. The transition wouldn't be the easiest, but she was young and would adapt quickly. Children were malleable, for better or for worse.

Mary spoke the haunting thought that had been bouncing around in his brain all morning will a small, pensive shake of her head. "That poor woman… The pain she must be feeling. I know that pain. I don't relish inflicting that on someone who loved my child as her own."

Edward put a reassuring arm around her. "We owe them a debt we can never repay." Thiago and Catalina Reyes, the mysterious couple who they had just left childless… Jennifer was clearly in good health, stolen from a tidy, comfy room in an expensive nightgown. It was a better life than most orphaned girls could dream of. That she had been cared for dearly was obvious. He shuddered internally, thinking what it would be to watch helplessly as a hooded figure ran away with his heart, never to be seen again. _May I die before I let that happen to my own family,_ vowed to himself.

He released his partner and sat at the edge of Jennifer's cot. As he brushed a strand of shiny red hair out of her face, he felt the first inkling of desperate love creep into his heart, the kind of love a parent felt for their children. It was this desperation that kept him anchored to the Earth; the passion that he felt for Mary and his fierce determination to protect her daughter. Their family.

"We have it from here now, though," he added. "As long as we both draw breath, so does she."


	14. Young Volcanoes

**Song** : _Young Volcanoes_ \- Fall Out Boy

With a tired grunt, Edward gave Bell an approving clap on the back. His young helmsman had taken some rough tumbles during their climbing exercises that morning. The boy's arms were textured with a dozen long scratches from the tree branches, some already caked with drying blood soon to be replaced by clean scabs. His balance was exceptional for a novice by any objective standard, clearly honed by his years of scaling ratlines and manning a deck in all manner of weather. For the sake of stealth, however, he lacked refinement. Moving silently through the jungle canopy was a skill that came naturally to very few, and Bell was no exception. He'd begun making great strides since becoming an Assassin novice some two months prior, but he had a way yet to go.

"Your improvements are palpable, but you're prioritizing speed over precision," Edward huffed, trying to sound encouraging through his breathlessness. "Timing is your dearest friend, don't forget. You won't gain an instinct for it overnight, but the payout is worth it in the long-term if you look for opportunities to practice. If you are overeager, it will be your downfall." His eyes scanned the younger man's marked-up skin. "And I mean that quite literally."

The boy chuckled. "Aye, I'll slow it down next time, shall I, Captain?" He gestured with his chin down the path toward the village. "Now you'd best be going. It's nearly sundown."

Edward nodded in farewell and picked up a light jog. He was always tired after an afternoon of training, but he was entirely unwilling to allow himself to slacken. Sometimes he wondered whether it was the pain of the past couple of years, or simply the heavy hand of time, but he wasn't a young, fresh sailor anymore. With his thirties close to their dawn, he felt the years and the experience that came along with them beginning to slow him.

In the few months that he'd been residing with them, Edward had gained numerous responsibilities with the Brotherhood. Returning to Tulum, at last victorious with their enemies crushed beneath his boot and Mary's daughter in his arms, he had finally earned the honor of their acceptance and respect. He had begun mentoring as often as he was able and had taken on several small field operations close to the Yucatan. On the Jackdaw, he retained his position as their captain and went on raids a few times a week to keep his crew in coin. They seemed to be enjoying their jungle vacation well enough, provided they kept their distance from the Assassins and their pesky morals.

And then there was this.

Jennifer's laugher pealed across the landscape like birdsong, drifting down to his ears as a reward for making the steep climb up the cliff above the village. He headed down the path to his left, toward the temple that shadowed Anne's grave. A smile broke across his face when he saw her. She clambered on a collection of boulders and rubble, her auburn hair shining in the low sunlight. Ikal stood beneath her, an ever-encouraging shadow. Adéwalé sat at the base of the rock stack, whistling conspicuously and pretending to adjust the straps on his hidden blade. Jennifer eyed him with gleeful intensity, wriggling like a kitten ready to pounce. Kenway's heart leaped into his throat as he realized too late the kind of game they were playing. Without a hint of fear or caution, Mary's daughter dropped a fair meter onto his old friend's shoulders. Adé cried out in mock surprise and grabbed her arms, wrapped tightly around his neck, as he rolled over to the ground in defeat. Jenny squealed with delight at her triumphant kill as she climbed over her playmate who was still struggling to suppress his laughter in the throes of death.

"Jenny!" Edward called out to his ward with a forced smile to pull her attention away from their murder games. Her head snapped up at the sound of her name and her eyes landed on his, bright with childish energy. She clambered to her feet with all the clumsy enthusiasm befitting a toddler and ran to him, throwing the full weight of her little body into his knee with a hug. He stumbled back a step before scooping her up into his arms.

"Papa!" she exclaimed. "I got Uncle Adé!"

"Aye, I saw what you did!" He squeezed her encouragingly, attempting to veil his displeasure at the activity for her sake before turning his attention on the adults. "As I remember it, you were to take Jenny swimming in the cove today, yet here I find her drier than July."

"The girl can swim like a turtle," Adé countered. "And like a turtle, she lacks the same dexterity on dry land. Mary thought it would do her good to practice her climbing, and she was so excited to learn when she heard you would be doing so today as well."

Edward clenched his jaw and tried to keep the tension out of his arms which held Jenny close to his chest. He and Mary had never directly discussed her daughter's future with their Order, but he knew she had a mind to see her daughter trained to fight. Jennifer was just so young that he'd assumed that disagreement was still some distance off yet.

"It seems it _has_ done her good," his partner's voice announced from a few meters behind him. Mary reached his side a moment later and kissed the crown of her daughter's head. "Such a brave and happy thing you are." She pinched Jenny's chin proudly and the girl gave a pleased coo.

"She has talent," Adé remarked.

Ikal slid from the rocks to join them on the ground. "Any child of Read stock is bound to put us all to the test," he chimed in, his tone measured and pleasant. He and Mary had a long history of differences in opinion, but she was an undeniably gifted Assassin and a devoted member of their Order. Edward's involvement with the Assassins was still sometimes a point of contention but, following her involvement in the resolute defeat of the Templars, their years of tense respect had settled into what could almost be called a loose friendship. Besides, Ikal had a way with the village's youth, and he had taken a real shine to her young progeny.

"With Mary's spirit in her, I'm sure she'll be capable at anything life offers," Edward agreed while still avoiding support for her training in particular. "Now come," he reached out his free hand to Mary, who took it with a suspicious look in her eye. Clearly, she'd detected something unpleasant in his tone. "We need to get the little one to bed." Jennifer punctuated this with a yawn as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. Edward didn't know much about children, but he was quickly learning that Jenny's energy left her as suddenly as it came, and he was getting better at predicting the cycles. He was also learning that parents took pride in the oddest skills and accomplishments accrued while rearing their young.

"Not just yet, Kenway," Ikal interjected. He locked eyes with Mary for a moment and she gave him a nod before taking Jenny into her arms.

Edward tensed, suddenly feeling vulnerable with Ikal's attention on him and his sweet ward not in his arms to dissuade an attack. Mary laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she hoisted Jenny higher onto her hip. "Come find me when you're done. I have a surprise for you," she offered a smile before waving for Adé to follow her back to the village.

Ikal waited, arms crossed, for them to be alone before speaking. "You can relax, Kenway. I'm not holding you here to berate you. _Or_ to hit you." He turned and waved for Edward to follow. Uneasy, the pirate complied. They strode a few dozen meters away to the place where they had buried Anne Bonny. Edward's first meeting with the Mayan Assassin at his side replayed in his mind. The lashing he had received, both verbal and physical, at the hands of Ikal and his partner, Glenna, had been well deserved, he could admit. The timing, however, had picked at a raw wound.

"If you're not going to do either of those," Edward eventually questioned. "Then what do you want of me?"

Ikal pursed his lips. "I wanted to talk to you about that." He pointed at a dirty sheet of silver partially embedded in the burial mound, just barely recognizable as a flask; Edward's favorite flask, ornately carved and one of the first prizes he took for himself as a pirate. He'd brought it from Great Inagua on his last visit, anticipating that after Jennifer's rescue they'd come to Tulum to help the Assassins slowly finish moving their operations to Inagua in secret. The first thing he'd done when his boots hit the sand was return to this gravesite and replace his borrowed, cheap token to his fallen friend with the one he would have wanted to give her.

"Aye, it's mine," he confirmed. His voice was ragged, escaping his lungs around the lump building in his throat. "What of it?"

"You seem to take great pains to honor Ms. Bonny in death. I do not know much about your relationship with the woman, but I did not take you for a mourner." Ikal's tone was pointed, matter of fact. He pulled no punches in his bleak opinion of Edward.

The pirate laughed dryly. "I honor her in death because I did not honor her in life." His tone was equally blunt. "She was a powerful woman, and a dear friend to Mary. Had I conducted myself differently in her youth, she would be here still, standing alongside us, playing with Jenny and her boy. I have no desire to convince myself otherwise, not anymore. You must understand, Brother, I gave up on protecting my pride some time ago, but I've always mourned my dead whether I could be honest with myself about the circumstances or not."

"Your dead, perhaps," Ikal's voice turned black. "But what of ours?

Edward's stomach twisted with a long-dormant guilt. After a long moment he said, "Tell me of your dead, Ikal."

Ikal turned and looked up the long, stacked face of the temple. Sunlight glinted stunningly off the white stone. The sun was sinking low behind the mountains, beginning to filter through the jungle canopy. "I was raised in the Order, just as my parents were before me and my children will be after me. You may be new to our world, but for many of us this is the only life we have ever known, the only life we would ever want. The world that brought you up, I only know it to be a lie." His gaze fell to Edward's with brown eyes as hard as the earth beneath their feet. "The men and women who have died because of your actions… Many of them had fought beside me my whole life. Some had trained me, and some had been trained by me. I count myself fortunate not to have lost Glenna that day in Havana, or in all the fights after that you brought upon us. You did not show your face here for many seasons after the attack, so you will never know the pain we endured, the losses we suffered. I've lived my whole life in this village, and I've never seen it so dark and hopeless. It felt as though even the animals in the jungle were in mourning for the fallen. You will never know the glory this valley once held for those who lived here. It was the seat of our guild for generations, and now we prepare to abandon it for good because it is no longer a sanctuary. You robbed us of that."

Edward could do little but hang his head and take the accusations. There was no flaw in Ikal's argument, no emotional falsehood to let him off the hook. The man's words rang true, every one. "In my younger years I would have tried to defend myself, held up my good deeds as though they absolved me. Alas, I find myself defenseless to the truth."

Ikal shook his head. "In your younger years, I imagine you would have done a great many things differently. But that younger man is not the Edward Kenway I am speaking with now. I have slowly come to learn this, much in the same way you have slowly come to learn it as well. The years have changed you."

Edward grunted, a discomfort settling in his chest. "Mary has changed me, and through her, the Creed as well."

Ikal offered a half-smile. "Women have their way about them. _Our_ women more so than those of the common folk. A good man is truly humbled by the love of one, regardless of place or status, but when she carries the purpose of an Assassin with her they can change the shape of our very hearts. Glenna once did this for me and I have seen Read do the same for you. I confess, I do not approve of her choice, but she has never been one to ask permission from God or man. She follows mind and spirit alone."

Edward laughed dryly, his voice tinted with pride. "Don't I know that, mate." Ikal's disapproval was hardly a shock, but stung, nonetheless. The Assassins were Mary's family, and he yearned for them to be his as well. Like it or not, Ikal's opinion mattered to him in some small way, along with that of the rest of the village. "What would you have for Mary, then, were you to play her matchmaker?"

Ikal was silent for a long moment. Then he turned and rounded to the front of the temple. Edward followed him up the crumbling steps and over a crumbling wall to the base of the stela in front of the open chamber. Edward reached out his hand and ran his fingers over the paint on the fading stone. He had climbed the sculpture to collect its key once many years ago, upon his first visit to Tulum after Mary had shown him the door that they unlocked.

Ikal watched with a calm gaze as Edward's fingertips traces the bevels and crevices on its surface. "I've heard that you seek to solve this puzzle."

Kenway nodded. "Aye, and I'm close, too. I've found about a dozen of the stones."

"Do you know what they lead you to?"

"Mary showed me the door once, but I've not the foggiest clue what's behind it. Do you know?"

Ikal shook his head. "I have heard rumors, but that door has been locked for centuries. Why, then, would you pursue this task when you do not know what will come of it at the end?"

Edward shrugged a bit. "At first? Curiosity, and the love of the hunt for the most part. Mary seemed to think it was important, though, and as time went on it began to matter to me that I show you all what I'm capable of. I used to struggle to see anything through to its end, but I know now that I can. Roberts, Torres, the lot of them, I made their ends. If I solve this puzzle too, perhaps I'll have begun a pattern of making something out of myself."

Ikal gave a nod, and Edward felt something from him akin to approval. "To answer your question, I would have for Mary someone as dedicated to our cause as she is. More than that, I would have for her a man with the heart of an Assassin." He gestured back down the steps. "Follow me, if it please you."

Confused by his crypticism, Edward obliged. "I would have to argue that's a highly subjective measure," he mused as they made their way back down the path. "It has always seemed to me that the Creed allows each man and woman to find their own path within its confines."

"And what would you say your path is, Captain Kenway?"

Edward gave that a moment's thought before answering. "It lies with Mary and Jenny. And it intercepts those of men who would do harm to the innocent and enslave the weak. Beyond that, I'm still discovering for myself."

The sun scraped the tops of the mountains to their west, and at that moment the sound of drums rang out through the valley.

"Then perhaps in time you will become a man I would consider worthy of her. Of our Creed."

They came over a hill then and the village valley opened up beneath them. Sunlight made the white stone of the Sage's temple glisten and the torches cast long, flickering shadows on the cliffside. In the village's square, the jungle's population had congregated and their cheerful whoops rang loudly. Drummers had assembled at the edge of the pool and Assassins danced beneath them, some playing flutes and fiddles.

Ikal lead him along the cliffside toward the temple overlook, ignoring the pirate's confusion. A smaller crowd had gathered around the chamber at the edge of the cliff, surveying the clamor in more subdued postures. A pair of drums and flute were all they had, and the dancing was limited to skips and sways. Their faces were all alight, however; a calmer reflection of the celebrations on the valley floor. Every man and woman, above and below, were dressed in the traditional white robes of the Assassins.

As he drew nearer, he began to recognize faces among the group. Adéwalé stood at the edge, conversing happily with Upton Travers and Opía, two Assassins from the bureaus around the West Indies that he had helped safeguard several years past. Antó's broad figure was distinguishable even with his back turned, towering over the petite Glenna. It was Rhona who noticed their approach first and announced it with a pointing finger and an excited shout that was quickly echoed by all present. They greeted him with claps on the shoulder and quick hugs as they moved him into the center of their throng. Edward remained wholly bewildered by the scene until he reached the towering chamber.

As the group parted in his path, his eyes fell first onto Ah Tabai, offering a warm grin, and then to Mary at her side. She was dressed in the traditional hood and skirt of the Assassin women with her hair loose around her face, framing eyes that glistened with joyful pride. On her hip sat Jenny, who wore a pint-sized white robe. Both meaty toddler hands were wrapped tightly around the rim of her hood, which she had pulled up over her head. The child cast a broad grin when she noticed him, and he felt the contents of his chest melt on the spot. He went to their side and kissed the little girl on the top of her head before pressing his lips to Mary's. Beginning to understand what was going on, he took his partner's hand and turn to Ah Tabai.

The Mentor gestured out toward the crowd in the valley. "Are you ready to join us, Edward? To be an Assassin in full?"

Kenway nodded solemnly. "I do hope I am."

He followed the older man up the steps to the chamber and around the edge until they were standing overlooking the village. The drumming below intensified. Beneath them the pool was still and black. Beyond, the Assassin insignia patterned into the ground below glittered in the firelight and dying sunset. At its base, against the pool, a single brazier was lit.

Edward stood in the center of the ledge. Ah Tabai positioned himself to the left with Adé at his flank. Mary handed Jenny off to Rhona and joined them at the right.

The Mentor took Kenway's right hand in his and placed his other hand on the pirate's left shoulder. Raising his voice to be heard by the crowd below who quieted at its sound, he began, "Every chapter of our Brotherhood, separated by either time or place, has their own way of initiating the worthy. Core to all of them is our Creed and its three Tenets. Every Assassin knows these words and lives by them for as long as they are known to us as Brother or Sister."

"Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent," Adéwalé's voice boomed.

"Hide in plain sight," Ah Tabai added.

"Never compromise the brotherhood." Mary's voice was severe and final.

"You have broken every one of these Tenets in past years," Ah Tabai continued. There was a chatter of irked amusement among the audience. "But in this ceremony you are granted a chance for rebirth. Do you wish to leave here with a new life and a new identity free from the errors of your past?"

Edward nodded heartily. "I do." More than anything he wished for that.

Ah Tabai turned to the crowd and raised his arms. "Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember…"

Edward projected his voice as loud as he could, as though each decibel would make his vow somehow more permanent. "Nothing is true."

"Where other men are limited, by morality or law, remember…"

"Everything is permitted."

As one, Edward joined every Assassin in the valley in proclaiming, "We work in the dark to serve the light." The sheer volume of the combined declaration shook his chest. He turned to Mary to find her looking at him. "We are Assassins."

Ah Tabai stepped forward onto the stone snake on the crown of the Mayan god that was carved into the face of the temple. The crowd cheered as he dove forward into the pool. Adé followed closely. Then Mary stepped out. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and the corners of her lips pulled up in a loving smile that reached all the way up to her fawn brown eyes. Powerfully, she leaned forward and pushed herself into the open air.

Edward took his place on the snake carving and surveyed the scene below him. The onlookers were welcoming his friends out of the water one by one. The three of them stood on the wide pedestal that divided the stairs to the pool in half and craned their necks up at him, waiting.

In his heart, he surrendered himself to his new life. He fell.

Edward sliced cleanly through the surface of the pool. He allowed the water to slow him gradually. It was quiet down there. The thundering drums were muted and the light from the brazier was quickly snuffed out as he sank. When his hands felt the bottom of the pool, he twisted and pushed up toward the dark sky.

When his head broke the surface, all the energy of the celebration rushed his senses at once. He wiped the water out of his eyes and found a hand extended in front of his face. He took it and allowed Mary to pull him up to her side. Edward shook out his hair while he caught his breath. The throng of people had encroached on them and were shouting their congratulations. He recognized most of them as men and women he had fought beside, trained beside, shared a drink with. The sense of kinship that surged through him was one that he had not felt since the prime of Nassau.

Once he had caught his balance, the throng of bodies parted once more to make a path to the brazier. Adé slid down to it and lifted a brand from the flames. Edward's stomach turned. He knew what came next.

Adé passed the brand up to Ah Tabai. The Mentor turned to face Edward and smiled, holding the energy of the valley for a moment before passing the glowing tongs to Mary. There was a moment of pleasant surprise on her face, but she quickly recovered and took them firmly in her grasp. She raised her left hand, and every initiated Assassin followed suit.

"The oaths we make here are not easily undone," she announced. "The safeguarding of man's God-given right to freedom is not a task to be taken lightly. You will have to sacrifice for our cause, and so we ask that you symbolize your commitment with a first sacrifice."

He looked at the hand that she raised high and proud, the fingers that had been mangled by the Observatory's defenses in their pursuit of Torres. He looked up above where his closest friends were watching, Jenny gazing down at him from Rhona's arms. They had nearly lost her forever. Mary's sacrifices had been great, but what defined her was what she had gained by them. Safety for many, love for a few, and someday, maybe, peace for the world.

He held out his hand without hesitation and she sealed the brand around his ring finger.

It was all he could do not to flinch, not to whimper. He held steady, gritting his teeth. The gasp for air was reflexive when she released him. He clutched his hand to his chest and tried to breathe through the pain without making a show. His audience laughed knowingly, each familiar with what he was experiencing. Mary nodded at the pond and he reluctantly stooped to soak his hand. The water wasn't cold, but the relief was near-instant.

His partner helped him back to his feet and gingerly took his burned hand, raising it to the sky. "Assassins!" She commanded. "Welcome your new Brother!" Her eyes met his and the smile in them gleamed of a pride he had been yearning for his whole life.

* * *

 **AN:** Ok, y'all, I know how to story is going to end now. I have two more chapters planned, and I'm going to try and finish the story soon because I have some other ideas on the back-burner that I think you might want to see! I know it's been a while. Thank you for sticking with me and my story all these years. I don't always have time for my passions, but what time I have is going to be funneled toward writing for the time being.


	15. Courthouse

**Song:** _Courthouse_ \- Iwan Rheon

* * *

For as stuffy as the Assassins could be, the initiation party they threw Edward had knocked him flat on his ass.

He woke to a beam of light breaking through the trees. The sun hung in the sky at just the right angle to draw long across his eyeline, rousing him from the depths of his drunken slumber. Pulled somewhere near what could be called consciousness, his eyelids fluttered open, drowsy, and his gaze fell on the pink and orange sky, brimmed by the jungle canopy. He admired how easily their colors faded into one another, how he couldn't quite identify where one ended and the other began, or what the shade between the two might be called. It occurred to him, blearily, that he had slept through most of the day. It was justified, he supposed, given that they had celebrated through most of the night, but he still felt like a tad of a slob in his sauce for it.

He sat up slowly. His head span and his mouth was as dry as the soft earth beneath his fingers. At his feet were the charred remains of a bonfire, each of the coals blackened and free of any lingering warmth. Around the perimeter, he was able to identify the sleeping forms of a number of his friends. To his left, he found Mary asleep on her stomach. Rhona was stretched out perpendicularly on her other side, using the small of her back as a pillow. He smiled warmly. He knew them to be old friends, bonded from their Novice days, but they scarcely saw each other anymore. Rhona headed the Havana bureau those days and Mary seemingly sailed back and forth across every island but Cuba. It warmed his heart to watch them reconnect whenever their paths did cross.

His eyes fell to Mary's left hand, resting gently in front of her face. He could almost imagine her two shortened fingers whole again, the tips hiding in the patchy grass. He reached over and brushed the calloused skin along her knuckles lovingly, cherishing the moment of silent closeness. Stretching out his fingers, he laid them softly between hers. His brand stung, still fresh from the previous night's ceremony but slowly beginning the healing process. It was mirrored on her own ring finger, an inch below the severed tip. The finger held two burn scars in total, one much rougher and older than the other. Her brand was pink and weathered, somewhat jagged around the edges. The Observatory had been surgical in its amputation, but the skin that had healed over the third knuckle was much darker, almost black in the low light of dusk. He was grateful that her Assassin's mark had been spared in the accident.

The first sign of Mary's waking came from her fingers as he studied them. They reached and twisted back to lock with his. Her eyes fluttered open slowly and the muscles along her arm trembled as she stretched her shoulders and back, likely tight from the night's rough accommodations. The motion roused Rhona.

"Blimey," the latter woman complained as she pressed her palm to the side of her head. "How much did you lot let me drink last night?" She wobbled a bit as she pulled slowly into a seated position, supporting herself with her free hand against the dirt.

Edward chuckled and gestured at the spread of empty bottles around their perimeter. Several sat near minute divots in the dirt, as though they'd been thrown down with some force. A few were shattered, leaving behind a brilliant mosaic of brown and green. They'd have to clean those up later, lest Jenny or one of her friends found the shiny shards. "There wasn't much stopping you, mate. And I was in no condition to try, neither."

Mary groaned. "I'm going to hope I didn't drink my full share of those. Not that I can remember enough of the night to be sure." She and Edward laughed together at that, both knowing she had probably, in fact, put the rest of them under the table. He kissed her sweaty brow and she reached out to pull free the sloppy knot of hair at the nape of his neck. She shook it loose with her fingers, knocking out the caked-in clods of earth.

The sound of their voices stirred their sleeping friends at the other end of the ashy fire pit. Adéwalé sat against a tree with his chin to his chest and hands folded across his lap, looking somehow more stately than slovenly. As he stirred, he pushed his drawn hood back and rubbed the sweat off his bare scalp. To his side, Ikal and his partner, Glenna, were curled up together, slowly disentangling from each other's embrace.

"You smell that?" Rhona asked as Edward scrounged through their assortment of bottles in search of some leftover Hair of the Dog.

"Aye," Adé agreed around a yawn, somehow in a perkier state than the rest. "Smells like my supper!" Edward's old quartermaster wasn't often found in his cups and didn't lust for rum as most pirates did, but Kenway suspected that was in part because he didn't feel its effects so strongly as most did.

Together, they all got to their unsteady feet and followed the tempting aroma toward the beach. The enticing odor of the evening's dinner on the fire wafted across the air more strongly when they reached the sandy ship cove, whipped up by gentle coastal winds. Edward's stomach turned unsteadily. He was starving, but at the same time he couldn't imagine keeping anything down for the next week.

They found Jenny sitting opposite Bell, both rolling a wooden ball back and forth between themselves, carving a marginally deeper path in the fine sand with each pass. Massey tended to a pot over a fresh bonfire. The young pair of friends had graciously offered to babysit for the night and day as an initiation present to their captain. It was true, he and Mary made a formidable working team, but their relationship was undeniably colored by their separate and shared responsibilities, both to their crew and to their order. What moments they could find for themselves were more valuable now than any treasure in the _Jackdaw's_ hold. Bell and Massey seemed to understand this. Ever since the duo had begun their Assassin training, they'd become trusted insiders on their crew, among the few to know Mary's true identity. Kenway looked out for his men and it had certainly won him the loyalty of these two.

"What are you drawing up for us tonight?" Mary called out as they approached. She had pulled up her own hair, granting the breeze leave to cool her neck. The evening was a pinch too humid for her liking, Edward knew. He was tempted by the thought of a swim.

"A fine pork stew for the captain!" Massey announced. The lad had always had a taste and talent for the finer aspects of cooking. Their supper was sure to satisfy.

"Jaysus, you all look a right mess!" Bell greeted their group. "I didn't think such a stoic clan had it in them!" He laughed, surely pondering embarrassing events from the night before that none of them would be able to recall.

Mary laughed weakly. "We're not saints, lad, no more so than yourself, and even the Pope likes his wine now and again." She toasted this with a swig from a bottle of grog she had lifted from Massey's cooking equipment.

The salty air whipped up around them with a gentle gust, swirling the smell of the pig all around. Edward pulled Mary tight to his side as they settled onto the sea-bleached logs surrounding the fire. In spite of the pounding in his head, he was bright in spirit. Surrounded by his dearest friends, his family, he was home.

* * *

Edward's head broke through the surf. Salt water dripped off his lips as they parted to breathe, some reaching his tongue. The taste, which he used to find unpleasantly intense, he now almost enjoyed. He felt he could finally understand the appeal of the salt licks they used to give the barn animals back in Bristol.

Kicking hard against the current, he pushed back toward his partner. Mary sat in the shallows where the tide rose and gently fell but never fully receded. After their pork feast, the temptation of a twilight swim had been too great to resist. Mary had led him down the beach, leaving their friends behind to tell stories of the night before. They had wandered for some time before coming to the isolated cove where she had spent many days training him when he'd first come to Tulum to stay. Those days seemed a world away now, their reunion in the graveyard and weeks getting reacquainted, preparing for the most ambitious contracts of, hopefully, their lives.

Free from the water's grip, he crouched at her side and pressed a large shard of an opulent shell into her hand. "What about this one?"

Mary grinned at the specimen in her palm. "Might want to dull the edges a bit, but I think it'll make a fine add." She stood, stirring up the sand beneath her and making the water murky. Together, they trudged back to where they had left their bulkier clothes. Mary knelt to add the shard to a small pile of shells and pretty stones they had gathered along their walk to include in Jenny's collection.

Edward collapsed in the sand, exhausted from his dive. The last lights of the setting sun had vanished beyond the world's end, and stars were beginning to pattern the sky in full force. Mary stretched out alongside him, and he inched over to lay his head in the nook between her collarbone and breast. She lifted her hand, pointing at the hazy constellations. "That cluster of five over there..." She gestured at a collection of particularly bright dots. "What do you think the astronomers call them?"

Edward pondered that for a moment. They were arranged a bit like a house, or a square with a pointy hat. "Well that's plainly Turtle Major," he asserted. "You see those trails off the back? The flippers, those are, certainly."

Mary snorted in her laughter. "Aye, I see it."

Edward nodded. "That's not to be confused with Ernest the Fish Man, from the Greek myth about the man who was turned into a fish."

"No?" Mary asked, laughing harder. "Where's he then?"

"Over there," Edward gestured to a constellation to the east.

"What, the row of four? That's just a line, not a fish man!"

Edward shrugged. "Oi, I didn't name them! You'll have to ask the astronomers."

Mary huffed in amusement and kissed the crown of his head. "I love our nights like this," she sighed after a moment, running her hand selfishly across the expanse of his bare chest, wiping away lingering droplets from the sea as she went.

"They are far too few and spaced apart," he agreed with a tone of contentment. He reveled in her closeness. It had been roughly two years since their reunion, and nearly one since admitting their love for one another, but their lifestyle didn't lend itself to gratuitous intimacy. Despite that, or perhaps as a fortunate byproduct of it, he still managed to feel giddy in the moments where he could touch all the lines of her form without watching eyes.

However, laying there in a quiet embrace with eyes growing heavy, something became unsettled within Edward's mind. His heart was intertwined inextricably with Mary's and he carried with him a sense of intimacy, of a mutual, complete knowing of the other. Yet, despite this, he felt a small wedge in the center of that embrace; a trace of their one fundamental disagreement.

"Mary," Edward began, interrupting the easy silence. He anchored himself to the steady rise and fall of her breathing. "I think we should talk about yesterday."

Something in his tone seemed to tip her off to the scene he was thinking of. "I suppose we have to." She lifted a hand to gently run her fingers through his hair. "I'm beginning to suspect we have different plans for Jenny. Would you agree?"

He frowned and, with a deep breath, stated simply, "I don't like the idea of her beginning any training. I don't want this life for her."

Mary huffed, but the sound was warm. "I had worked out as much, though I am left wondering why."

Edward had to admit that he struggled with the _why_ of it. He loved this life, the life he and Mary shared. Neither of them was suited to the civilian way. They'd each come to it in their own unique paths that had led them to each other and had both thoroughly enjoyed most of the journey there. What bits had left their hearts heavy, they carried together. Jennifer, though… she had a chance. Perhaps she had it in her to be soft, to be gentle, to live a life free of blood, pain, and death. "It's dangerous," he concluded. She had become a princess to him, his darling girl. "I want her safe."

He felt Mary nod in sincere agreement. "I want that for her too. I want her free from danger." She pulled away, and they both shifted so that they sat facing one another in the sand. Her look was firm, yet open. "But do you know what's dangerous? Being a woman in a man's world. There are so many perils that lay in the road ahead of her that may never even occur to you, Templars be damned. This girl _is going_ to be able to fend for herself. I want her safe, but not living some sterile existence where she's at the mercy of a husband to vanquish any evil or inconvenience that bedevils her, and to not be that evil, himself. Men fail. Men die. I want _freedom_ for her, Edward. I want liberty and opportunity." She leaned forward for emphasis, resting one forearm on her knee. Her fingers were curled passionately into her palm but there was no aggression in the fist they made.

He reached out for her folded hand, brushing his thumb reassuringly over her scarred and scabbed knuckles. "No one can touch her, Mary," he impressed. "All this time, these years that I have chased power and influence, it's all for her now. All that I am, all that I've become is for you and for her. The whole of our Order dotes on her. Our current resources are unmatched. She's untouchable. We can make certain of it."

Mary narrowed her eyes, and her hand didn't grasp his in return. "You and I have cut down far more powerful folk than ourselves, remember. Resources means nothing if someone with conviction is after you. You can't protect her. Neither can I. We lost her for nearly two years already. I won't have her defenseless if something were to happen to us, not when there's clearly a better way."

He shook his head, unconvinced. "Death is inevitable. Don't think that I don't know that. But I don't want her living the whole of her life preparing for an attempt on it that may well never come. When we go to London, things will be different there. The scores that we've settled in the West Indies won't chase us there. We can build a life for her that's worlds apart from what you and I lived through growing up. Her existence will be one of esteem and ease. Any number of powerful families will clamber to secure her hand for their sons! High-class ladies don't have to fuss about anything more taxing than hosting dinner parties and entertaining their husbands' business partners. How can you not want that for her?"

Mary sighed, visibly weary with his stubborn attitude. "If that's what she wants, I won't begrudge her. But I need her to have _options_. We can't shield her from everything, though God willing we'll both stay kicking about long enough to try. I don't want her to have to survive as I've had to, but she'll have to know how to fend for herself if the worst comes to pass." She glanced away, gazing out at the dark horizon over the sea.

Edward squeezed her hand. "I'll concede, no woman should be left defenseless. A few of your knife tricks up her sleeve and no common man will dare cross her. I promise you, though. She'll never have to struggle for base survival as you once did."

Mary's eyes broke from the waves and turned back to him. There was a look in them that he hadn't seen in some time, but it set him back on his heels just as quickly as it had in his youth. Sternly, she corrected, "You know as well as I that she won't be up against just _common_ men. She's barely two years hatched, and she's already become collateral damage in a war as old as mankind itself. You can't truly think that an advantageous marriage will save her from her part in it. I know you've seen enough by now to understand the truth. You've come too far. Don't trade one folly for another." Her tone was pointed and left no gaps to expose self-doubt. Her convictions on the matter were clear and certain.

Edward was quiet for a long moment. He didn't have a good response to that argument. Was he, indeed, foolish to think he could separate her from this dark current of history? His view of the conflict was so intimate, he imagined himself part of a privileged few with access to the truth. In his mind, he fantasized of keeping Jenny separate from it all, keeping her a part of the blissfully ignorant many. Perhaps, however, she was born tragically too close to it all. Perhaps it was unavoidable, an inevitability.

With a sigh, he relented. He didn't agree with her, but she was the wind that had always carried him to shore and he couldn't afford to be at odds with her. He knew by now that ignoring her wisdom would leave him adrift. "I've worked on ships since I was just a boy in pursuit of one thing: trying to provide for my family. Whenever I imagined having children with Caroline, I pictured having the ability to drape them in the finest fabrics and pay for the finest tutors just as Caroline's parents had given her. I wanted any daughters I might be given to have the skills necessary to marry well and find someone who would protect them when I no longer can. Never once did I imagine they might learn how to clean blood that wasn't their own from their blouses, or how to sever an artery beyond hope of repair." He laughed darkly. "I wanted so badly to be a proper father, with proper daughters who could fit into society in a way that I have never been able to. I still want that. I want to provide for her and give her the choice of ease that I never had."

Mary sighed, considering his words. "There are many things less easy in this world than the life of an Assassin, Edward. Chiefly among those is a woman without a father or a husband, and it's all too easy to lose those if you have them. I did. If I'd been raised any other more conventional way than how I was, I could very well be working the streets or dead. No amount of money in my father's pocket would have changed that. If you die, Jenny can't inherit a coin of yours. You are right that we live deadly lives, you and I, but that won't change. We've made our oaths. We're in this for life, by choice. Aye, Jenny hasn't chosen this, and I'll be happy enough to give her the option to leave it all behind when she's old enough. Until then, though, I'll be bloody well damned if I'm going to let anyone stop me from giving her every opportunity to make her own way in the world first."

Edward nodded thoughtfully. A choice. A chance. He could live with that. "All right, then. It's settled. We'll raise her as a woman of substance, with every opportunity money can buy. Education, status, all of it. We'll also train her in the ways of the Order. When she comes of age, it'll be up to her to decide what life she wants to lead. Until then, we open every door for her that we can find and close none."

The tension in Mary's fingers relaxed. She nodded slowly, smiling gently. "I think that's a deal I can make."

Edward reached out and brushed her cheek. She raised her eyes to his, and there was peace in them. "I know she's your daughter. She's not my blood, but I see her as my daughter, too. I have every intention of being a father to that girl, and a partner to you. The two of you are my family, and I will always respect your authority when it comes Jenny, but I want to be partners in her rearing. I will take every full responsibility due to the father of a daughter and the husband of a _powerful_ woman."

The slightest smirk touched her lips. "Oh, a husband?" She crawled forward, into his lap, and wrapped her legs around his waist. With her arms draped over his shoulders and her lips on his cheek, she whispered. "I do think I'd like to be married to you."

* * *

Guided only by the light of the moon ahead and the bonfire behind, Edward and Mary waded hand-in-hand behind Adéwalé out into the cove. When they were waist deep, Kenway's old quartermaster turned to face them. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Are you?" his new quartermaster countered. Adé did look a tad nervous.

"Some of us have never participated in a wedding ceremony before. I can only do my best," he countered. Mary and Edward chuckled. They'd both been married before and had been subconsciously preparing for this for some time. Adé had been thrown into the mix just five minutes earlier.

They had decided not to wait any longer. They'd been joined in spirit for months. All that remained was to make it official. They didn't have a minister present, but they did have a ship's captain and open water readily available. Their witnesses watched excitedly behind them from the shore.

Adé took a deep breath, placed a hand of each of their shoulders, and looked up at the sky. "Almighty God, I have brought these souls before you to unite them as one in your eyes." He dropped his gaze back to the couple. "Edward Kenway. Mary Read. Is it your wish to take the vows of marriage?"

They nodded and, with shared smiles, confirmed, "It is."

Adé turned first to Edward, then shrugged. "Alas, I do not know any vows, so I will ask that you make your own."

Edward pursed his lips for a moment, thinking. His first wedding had been in the village chapel, with a proper priest and a strict script. It had been a rather mindless process, to be frank. As he gazed at Mary, he found himself at a total loss for words. What could he possibly say to do justice to the gift she was giving him? Stifling jealousy for the time he was buying Mary to prepare her own words, he eventually stammered the sentiments he had long held private in his heart. "I, Edward, take you, Mary, to be my wedded wife, my partner, and my guide. I have spent many years battling against your wisdom, all for the ruin of myself and those who dare to get close enough to me. I vow to honor your decision to stand by my side by submitting myself, mind and soul, to your love, to your counsel, and to the service of your happiness. With God as my witness, I make this vow to you."

His view of Mary's warm smile of acceptance was obscured by the gathering mist in his eyes. "I, Mary, take you, Edward, to be my wedded husband, my partner, and dearest friend," she responded. Her voice was steady, but had an edge that hinted she, too, was holding back strong emotion. "You have grown into a man I greatly admire and strongly wish to tie myself to for the rest of my days. I vow to walk with you through all of life's terrors, to come with you on every adventure, and to be with you, always, be it in body or in spirit. With God as my witness, I make this vow to you."

The smile Adé gave them showed mingled pride and warmth. "My friends, your souls have been bound together by the Assassin's Creed, and now I have the greatest pleasure of joining them again in the bonds of marriage." He raised his voice so as to be heard by the small throng of onlookers at the fireside. "I now pronounce you Edward and Mary Kenway, man and wife!" Adé nodded to Edward. "Kiss your bride, breddah!"

With a smirk, Mary threw an arm around Edward's neck and pressed her lips forcefully to his. Snickers and joyous whoops from the beach mingled around them with the soft song of the lapping waves. Kenway's heart soared like a seabird as he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her tight to him, never to let go again.

* * *


	16. Ghosts That We Knew

**Song:** _Ghosts That We Knew_ \- Mumford & Sons

Edward's final act as governor of his own little cove was to finally affix a proper headstone to his late wife's false grave.

He had delayed the task longer than he had originally intended when he had buried the box of her letters just over a year earlier. This was in part because he had grown rather fond of the grave marker Mary had fashioned from an old stool seat. The carvings had held up quite well in that time and it had individuality to it. The time had come, however, to leave Caroline with a memorial that would last in the absence of his care.

The date was October 1723. Edward and Mary had tied up their loose threads in the West Indies. The Assassins had finished shifting their base of operations to Great Inagua. There were no longer any pressing matters keeping them tied to the Americas, and their agreed-upon year had come to an end. The day had come to sail for England.

Edward had truly pushed off this task until the last available moment. Their crew – what men who had chosen to leave with them – were at the docks preparing the _Jackdaw_ for the departure. Mary was in the manor giving each room a last comb-over to ensure they hadn't forgotten any necessary or treasured belongings in their packing. Meanwhile, Kenway was elbow-deep in the dirt with a trowel.

When the hole was reasonably deep enough to hold it firm, Edward shifted the tablet stone away from the tree where it had been propped up and lowered the bottom third into the earth. With a huff, he sat back on his knees to admire his work.

He reached out to brush his fingers across the engraving and muttered, "Two years, I promised you. It turned into eleven, but I'm leaving now. I'm coming back, and I'll come to visit you when I get there. That's a promise I'll keep. I do that these days… I'll find your real resting place, and I'll sit with you whenever I'm in Bristol, just as I have here beneath this tree the past year." He pulled his fingers back from the lines that traced out her name. "I'll see you so soon."

When he had finished repacking the earth around the new headstone, he rose, dusted himself off, and tucked the stool seat under his arm. He made for the house, taking in his lovely garden for the last time as he went. He was satisfied, on Ah Tabai's word, that the false grave would remain in place for as long as the Brotherhood held the cove.

He entered the main hall of the manor and was struck, as he always was, by the grandeur. His eyes fell over every painting and trinket he and his men had won on their travels and brought back there to adorn the walls of their base with. Every trophy, every scuff on the woodwork, every empty bottle told a story of a sailor truly living. He had built something out of this room, something he was proud of. Each of his finest deeds had come together in some way to scaffold what this cove had become.

Beyond the memories he shared with his crew in that house, it had been the cradle where his relationship with Mary had found its legs. She had been at his side when they'd taken the cove, had led him to the manor through the tunnel she'd found in its bowels. It had been in the office where she'd first urged him to the aid of the Assassins, at the docks where she'd invited him to Tulum, and on the patio where they'd finally torn down their defenses and begun to stitch their hearts into one.

He imagined, perhaps, that giving over guardianship of this cove and all its memories to his Assassin brothers would be a small glimpse of what he might one day feel when Jennifer was grown and married and starting a new life with a partner of her own. _I cared for her. I watched her grow. I gave her what I had, and she turned it into something greater than myself. She has been my life's great joy, and now I trust you to treasure her the same._

He gave a bittersweet sigh, trailing his fingers over the rough, paint-chipped grain of the back of his usual chair at the head of the long banquet table. He allowed himself five long breaths to imprint the room in his mind's eye. Then, he left through the door opposite the one he had come in.

His heart smiled when his eyes fell on his wife. Mary sat at a small, round table in the sunshine just outside the door. On its surface rested two cups, a bottle of rum, and the journal that held her research and communications on Precursor artifacts. Her hair was tied up in her disguise as James Kidd, but she held herself as Mary. She had an easy set to her shoulders and mouth that told him she was relaxed, present in the moment, unconcerned about who was looking or how she was perceived.

"You didn't nearly forget that was locked in my desk, did you?" he asked, pulling out a chair for himself and gesturing to her notebook.

She offered him a warm smile and poured a drink into the empty cup, sliding it across the table. "I rather had a mind to keep it under lock and key 'til we were ready to sail." She shrugged. "It's too valuable to leave unattended on deck. It's a good job it didn't slip my mind though." She nodded toward the wooden grave marker he'd leaned against the leg of the table. "You bringing that along?" Her tone was amused.

He nodded with a humble grin. "I found it strangely difficult to part with," he answered around the rim of his cup. "Much like this here cove." He gestured generally with his gaze at the grandeur of their surroundings. He imagined their accommodations in London, once they'd settled, would be spectacular. There, however, in Great Inagua, he was a king, and a beloved one at that. He wondered if his heart would ever be graced by that feeling again, to be a leader among men alike in mind and purpose. He hoped he would, in some capacity or another. For all he knew though, he was leaving it behind on the docks.

Mary thumbed the handle of her mug thoughtfully. "I feel like I'm parting with Nassau all over again, though I didn't know that's what I was doing the last time I was there. I didn't know that was a final goodbye, the way I do now."

Edward nodded in mournful agreement. "I think I did. When Vane and I broke through that blockade with his fireship, there was something final about it. Perhaps I might return to the island, I had thought at the time, but our Republic, the community we had built with Thatch and Hornigold and all the rest, that had died the very day Rogers brought the King's Navy to our shores."

She reached across the table to give a reassuring touch to his hand that was picking at the grain of the wood. "At least we know this community here will stand long after we've left it to our stern."

He gripped her hand tightly in return and cast his gaze out over the valley below. From where he sat, he could just barely see the crosstrees of the _Jackdaw_ and the rooftops of the trim shanties and huts of the village. The air buzzed with life and opportunity. The morning was late, and the sun shone high over the liveliness of his dominion. Its warmth was reflected in the pride he carried in his heart; no longer pride for who he was, but rather for what he had helped create.

A short distance down the patio, Assassins and pirates drank together at a large table by the banister. Smiles and friendly jests seemed to waft among them like a gentle breeze. For an endless moment, the scene shifted in Edward's eyes to one he had always dreamed of making a reality, but which had never borne fruit: his fellow devils of the sea, all gathered amicably at his manor, sharing a bottle with not a care in mind.

He saw Stede Bonnet, all draped in merchant's finery and smiles. The portly old chap had carried such a heart for adventure and contempt for domesticity, though perhaps piracy had not been the optimal way for him to explore those sentiments. Such a kind-hearted man had not deserved to meet his maker at the hangman's noose. Edward prayed, wherever his widow and children were, that they were well and remembered Stede fondly.

At Bonnet's side sat Vane. As brash and uncorked as he'd always been, Edward had truly liked Charles and counted him as a friend. The man had had a clever eye for mischief and malfeasance that he expected would not find its parallel in their lifetimes. That was how he wanted to remember Vane, and that was how he envisioned him at that table. His eventual madness and betrayal were long forgiven and forgotten.

The counterbalance to Vane's cockiness that had thrown Edward's life expertly askew was Jack Rackham's wildness. A true beast with a bottle, he'd been, and there was little love lost between them. So many evils of past years had been set in motion by that catalyst of a man. Edward could forgive him for all but that which had cost Anne and Mary so dearly. That grudge was not yet ready to die. Despite it all, Calico Jack had been an influential figure in Nassau and Kenway's youth all the same, and they'd shared more than a few jovial pints in the golden days of their pirate republic. He appeared at the table in Edward's mind's eye with the rest, his cheek propped on his fist and a tipsy, peaceful grin on his face.

His feelings about Hornigold, seated across the table, were perhaps the most complicated he held for any of his old friends. None of the men he'd killed before or since had cursed him with as many sleepless nights. He respected Ben, truly, in spite of how things had ended up. The mentor to his mentor, he'd been a man of true esteem and poise. He'd always been searching for something bigger, something more meaningful than even Nassau could provide. They'd had that in common. Regrettably, however, Hornigold had found it in the Templars. Edward knew his friend believed he'd found the answer to poverty, disease, oppression, all of it, and that Torres had held the key to prosperity for every man. Perhaps there was some kernel, some seed of goodness to the world their Order sought to bring forth, but Kenway was equally convinced that no mortal man could hold such a powerful key and not be corrupted by it. It was that corruption that had led Benjamin to his end on Edward's blade, but as the Assassin reflected on the days the old man had spent carefully training him to command the respect of his crew and fear of his victims, he knew he would only remember Hornigold in fond terms.

At Ben's side, he pictured Anne. Sweet, sweet Anne, with flowers in her hair and a confidence in her manner that the most lush and arrogant man in their ranks could never hope to rival. She'd been a perplexing blend of crass and elegant that had brought joy to all who were blessed to have known her. In truth, her death had rattled him to his core because he had truly thought her invincible against all the particular evils these islands had to bear. She'd been an angel in a hellhole and had not earned her fate. Her loss had been the final, great failing of Edward's greed and hubris. If he was cursed to live in a world where her absence echoed so loudly, he would do his very best to honor her with his life.

Bernard Kenway had been an outstanding father, as they come, but Edward had been a less than exemplary son. For the boy that he had been when he'd reached the West Indies, however, Thatch had been the father he'd needed. He saw him then, sitting at the head of the table where he belonged, just as he had sat at the head of Nassau. Edward still felt his absence in every room of important people. When decisions were being made, plans being laid, he often found himself pausing to give space for the gruff words of wisdom that would never again come. _Fuck this world and fuck its gold,_ Edward thought, remembering his mentor's final words. _You were always a hero to your men, Thatch._ He and everyone he'd known and loved in the past decade would be forgotten by history as scoundrels and traitors, he knew that, but Jenny and any siblings she might have would be raised on bedtime stories of Blackbeard, the most fearsome and admirable pirate who ever lived. If his descendants knew the name, that would be enough. Edward Thatch deserved a legacy.

Mary squeezed his hand lightly, jarring him out of his reverie. She gave him a sad, knowing smile. "The ghosts haunt you too, do they?"

He nodded, blinking against the stinging in his eyes. The men at the table morphed back into their brothers and crewmen. "In every tavern. At every party."

Her gaze was sorrowful and understanding. "Any place where men are drunk and merry." She raised her glass a little higher before bringing it to her lips, a small, private toast to those lost. "London society could never appreciate the pleasures of frivolity as they did."

He tapped his mug to hers. "Of the things we're leaving behind, I think I'll miss them most of all."

"You don't think they'll follow us to England?" Her tone was sad, but unsurprised.

"They belong here. If we'd died a handful of years back, we'd belong here too. Our memories will go where we do, but their spirits will remain in these jungles." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps one day we'll join them." He was almost hopeful they might.

Mary smirked. "If we live long enough to come back here, I doubt I'll want to live long enough to leave twice." She stood, pulling him to his feet by their linked hands. "But until then, we're needed a long way from here. Come on now. It's time we're off."

Edward picked up Caroline's makeshift headstone and Mary pocketed her not notebook. Leaving the bottle on the table behind, they descended the steps toward the gate that led to town. He stopped them there to turn back toward the manor for a final time. He pictured the ghosts at the table once more, imagining himself almost able to hear Anne's singsong voice and Thatch's wheezing laughter on the wind. It would have been a privilege to sail away with any one of them, but he was taking the one friend he truly had to have at his side. That would have to be enough for this lifetime.

He turned and kissed his wife, long and gentle. "The only place I'm needed is wherever you happen to be."

* * *

A small crowd had gathered on the docks for their departure. Their crewmen were saying goodbye to their loved ones, having a last cup of rum with their friends, pleading with their favorite dancers to stay in their arms just a moment longer and cry a little when they left port. A number of them, Edward knew, had intent to return after a year or two, but none seemed to be able to resist the sentimentality and celebrity of such a departure.

He and Mary made a point to stop and shake the hand of each captain in their fleet as they pushed toward the _Jackdaw._ At the gangplank of their vessel, Ikal and Glenna were helping load the last crates of supplies. Glenna gave them polite smiles but moved out of their way without a word. It was as warm of farewell as Kenway had hoped to receive. Ikal, in contrast, passed off the crate in his arms to another sailor in order to address them. Edward placed the stool seat on top of it as the man passed him to board the ship, intending to collect it later once he had his crew settled on the open sea.

"I wouldn't worry about her, were I you," he said with a touch of affection and a smirk about his partner. "She bears you no ill will anymore, though I doubt your absence will be greatly noted."

"I would expect nothing more," Mary laughed. She pulled him into an amicable embrace. "I'm glad to part as friends, truly."

"I am, as well," he agreed, releasing her.

Edward offered his hand, which Ikal took without hesitation. "I can never repay you for the service you did our family in helping to find Jennifer."

Ikal smiled pleasantly. "No, I don't suppose you can." With a last nod to Mary, he followed Glenna down the docks.

Edward and Mary exchanged an amused glance and boarded their ship. He greatly doubted they'd ever hear from that pair again.

The deck was all a bustle of activity as final preparations were made for departure. Massey darted in front of them, doing his best to chase the black and white cat that hunted their rats down below deck where it would not get under foot. Jenny toddled over to them, awkwardly carrying the fluffy gray tabby that loved Mary so well. The animal was nearly as long as the girl was tall, and it hung limply with its forelegs stuck straight out ahead. Its expression was unsettled but it didn't make any effort to wriggle free of her grasp. Edward had never met such a tolerant animal, though he'd still rather have a dog. Cats might be better mousers on ships, but wouldn't do much in the way of protecting an estate, he expected.

"What a wonderful helper you are! Thank you for catching that kitty!" he praised his daughter. Mary scooped the cat up and Edward bundled Jenny into his arms.

"Uncle Muh-see not help!" she pointed out, clearly amused by her babysitter's lack of success. She was all smiles that morning.

"No, he's no help at all, is he?" he encouraged, nuzzling his nose against hers, making her scrunch up her face and giggle.

A frazzled Massey worked his way back toward them after securing the first cat below deck. Mary passed the other off to him and it leaned into his embrace eagerly. "I don't suppose you'd stay on as our governess when once we've established ourselves in England?" Mary chided warmly.

The lad gave a playful huff. "As it happens, I've secured employment already." The news clearly excited him. "Bell's sister was recently married to an horologist's son in the city, and the family was gracious enough to offer us positions at the shop. We'll mostly be running errands, delivering clocks and the like, but I'm hopeful the old man will teach us the trade one day." He cast their daughter an affectionate grin. "We'll cross paths at the London bureau though, I'm sure, and I imagine I'll call on you often. Any chance to see the little Lady Jenny." The girl clapped at the sound of her name. She reached out her arms for him and Edward passed her over.

"Well, we're glad you're coming with us all the same," Edward patted Massey on the back as he and Jenny made their way to the upper deck. The young sailor nodded to Adéwalé and Ah Tabai as they passed on the stairs.

"It's hard to believe you won't be here tomorrow," Adé greeted his old captain with a firm hug.

"I'm in as much disbelief about it as you are, mate," Edward breathed.

"Have you decided on a heading?" his friend asked.

"Bristol!" he declared. "I've got some business I need to settle there before I can truly begin my life anew. Once we've finished, we'll find somewhere to settle for good."

"If the wind ever carries you to England, you'll have a warm bed and a seat at our table," Mary assured him as they hugged as well. "You need only ask. Both of you."

"I do not think our kind would be welcomed in such a corner of the world," Ah Tabai sighed. "but there will always be a home for you and your family in these waters if you find yourselves dissatisfied with the stillness of high society."

She smiled warmly. "I doubt either of us will ever be truly still. We'll keep that close in mind, though." She turned to Adé again and procured the small notebook from her coat. She pressed it into his hands. "These are all the notes I have from my communications with our brothers in the colonies. I've written ahead for you, so they'll know of my departure by now. They're chasing some fascinating leads on Precursor sites at the moment. I expect you'll enjoy the work."

He took the notes with a grateful nod. "Perhaps we're due for a meeting, too. I would like to see more of the Americas before my days are done." He clasped Mary and Edward by the shoulders, like he had when marrying them. "My dear friends, you'll write when you've safely landed. Understood?"

They smiled and nodded, hugging him together once more.

Edward turned to Ah Tabai and they clasped forearms in farewell. "Mentor," he started. "I must thank you. You gave me a final chance to prove myself, and I hope I've done justice to the faith you placed in me."

Ah Tabai laughed and held up his hands. "I cannot accept your thanks. In truth, I had given up on you, Edward Kenway. It was Mary who forced my hand, and I cannot say I am sad to see that her instinct continues to prove fruitful." He bowed his head. "Safe travels. May you honor the Creed, and may it bring you honor." He left them then, and Adéwalé followed him off the ship.

Mary and Edward waved them off. "I must say, I'll dearly miss his gravitas," he laughed. She rolled her eyes with a small smile.

Around them, the bustle was beginning to quiet. Preparations were largely finished and those who were not leaving with them began to disembark. The two of them moved toward the starboard side so as not to stand in the way. Men said their fond goodbyes as they passed. Edward knew each by name and did his best to etch their faces into his memory. He glanced over at Mary and could see by the set of her face that the weight of their departure was setting in for her.

Her hand went to her belt, settling on the ruby hilt of the dagger he'd gifted her so long ago, _Venganza_. Revenge. She pulled it free, balancing the weight between her palms, and looked at him. After a quiet moment, she said, "I don't need this anymore…" The words lingered on her tongue, like she was coming to grips with them in that very moment.

He laid his hand over hers. The steel between their fingers chilled his skin. "Then don't bring it with you."

She nodded and pulled back. Her fingers wrapped naturally around the well-worn leather grip and she paused, indulging in the sensation of its weight in her hand for a moment. Then she turned on her heel and pitched the dagger over the side of the ship, far out into cove. It sliced quietly through the gentle waves and sank, taking pains of the past along with it.

He set a hand on her shoulder and she sighed, seeming to release a weight off her heart. She looked back at him and there was new light in her eyes. "I'm ready now."

He smiled and led the way to the helm.

Jenny had settled to the right of the wheel with a toy. Looking at her then, Edward could scarcely believe he'd ever worried he might not love her. She had so much Mary in her, and a spirit uniquely her own. Every small thing she did or said was a marvel to him.

He was, for a moment, plagued by self-doubt, as he was more occasionally than he would have liked. The Atlantic crossing was not an easy journey. The life that waited for them on the other side was hardly safe, either. His mind went back to his argument with Mary on the evening of their marriage. A choice, he reminded himself, that was their agreement. In spite of his concerns, he could never quite bring himself to feel guilty for taking her away from the safety of the family that had once adopted her. He knew that, had she stayed with them and grown up as Maria Reyes, she would have known nothing but the easy and proper life he wished for her. A small part of him did mourn that loss for her. At his core, though, he must admit that he was still too selfish to truly regret taking it away from her. She belonged with her mother, and with him. In that sense, paired against that alternative, a choice was a blessing. A choice was enough. He couldn't wait to see what she would someday do with it.

"Captain!" Bell called, interrupting Edward's thoughts. The young sailor came to join them, Massey on his tail. "The men are ready to depart. Would you like to take the helm today, or shall I?"

Edward waved him off. "If this is the last time we'll steer the _Jack_ out of this port, I would prefer to do it myself."

"You two go help at the mainmast," Mary suggested. 'We'll handle things up here.

"As you command, Master Kidd," Bell nodded. The set of his mouth was eager, excited. "We'll wait for your call." The two lads descended to their posts.

Edward huffed and tentatively curled his fingers around the underside of one handle on the wheel. He glanced down to his right palm and the long, white scar that ran across the skin there. It was the one Mary had given him when he had attacked her in his desperate panic at the Assassin graveyard, thinking her a ghost. The memory seemed so far away, though the mark was among the more recent that adorned his body. He pulled his gaze away from the thin, pale line and onto his wife at his side as she lifted their daughter to her hip. Jenny grabbed at the beads in Mary's hair – twins to those he still wore on his necklace – making her smile and shake her head to toss them around for the toddler's amusement. She noticed his stare as she did so and paused, giving him a puzzled look. He smiled back at her and touched his hand to her shoulder in their familiar gesture of trust and reassurance.

"I'm ready now too."

With a grin, she clasped his shoulder in return and glanced out over the deck. "Ready, lads!" she called out. "Loose all! Let's catch the wind!"


End file.
